Harry Potter and the Balance of Power
by silvermoonfae
Summary: Balance is broken and must be restored before catastrophe!One small abused boy doesn't realise the power he must grow into along the way with help from some friends.He has the weight of the world set upon his shoulders.How long before he breaks? Not Slash
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything remotely related to the fantastic world of J.K Rowling!**

**Balance**

True to the balance of Existence, the phrase "What comes around, goes around", hold truth. It is what enables us to exist in a world harmoniously. However, when one tips the scales of Balance, things tend to shift towards the cataclysmic, and forgive me for the dramatics but the world as we would know it would cease to exist.

Nevertheless, some sixteen odd years ago the 'Balance' shifted unceremoniously, with the actions of one evil being. It wasn't its mere existence which tilted the scales, for where the good dwells, so does the evil. No it was his intentions and the actions of one loving mother that fateful night.

That night, there was a selfless sacrifice from a mother! An orphaned child, lying quietly in her dead arms, a small tuft of messy ebony hair, mesmerizing emerald eyes and an unusual scar marring his forehead. A malicious spirit rising menacingly to float adrift on the nights breeze, vowing revenge. That night, brought forth the ingredients to break the world. This unprecedented event shook the foundations of destiny, and indeed, the whole world. Balance was broken! One small child who defied death had shattered the Balance upon which the earth was created. And with this a being of such power, the likes of which was only mentioned in stories, was created.

If one where to check all the satellite reports for that night at a minute to midnight, one would have noticed a wave of natural disasters which struck and dissipated simultaneously. As it was, this small but important fact was lost amidst the celebrations. Balance had been broken and it's harmony now rested upon the shoulders of a small baby but who would care at this time. A Dark Lord had been defeated, the rest was unimportant.

Balance had now shifted in the favour of the Light but, it wasn't to last! It couldn't! For Balance is essential and for a being as pure and powerful to exist, there had to be a being as evil and powerful as the other was innocent and pure, its counterpart. They would be equal, but opposite, Yin and Yang, Day and Night, Male and Female! Forever, they would be locked in an eternal struggle for dominance. If both lived, the war continued, if both died the war would fade and man would be doomed to repeat the mistakes which created such an imbalance. However, as such, whilst dealing with fate and all things concerned with the Divining Arts, things were not as simple as they seemed. Neither could be killed but by the hand of the other. The world was in a constant state of shift, trying to retain universal harmony. And now, 16 years later, it was never more noticeable than now and a small soon to be 16 year old didn't know how special he was in the power play for Balance!

**A/N – sorry it's short but I have the next chapter ready to upload. I just wanted to share my idea without giving too much away. Thanks, enjoy and reviews would be appreciated :) ~silvermoonfae**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N – Hope you like this chapter. Next one should not be long coming though your thoughts are welcome. Please review ~silvermoonfae**

**Disclaimer - Disclaimer: I do not own anything remotely related to the fantastic world of J.K Rowling!**

**Mysterious Happenings and Truths**

16 years later-A young man, peered out the window of the smallest bedroom at Number 4 Privet Drive. The night, the stars, the moon. They entranced him, helped him focus on the inconsequential and forget the unobtainable, shrouded it in the mystery of the night. He tilted his head slightly, letting the pale moonlight brush delicately against the soft features of his face. His messy, jet black hair, now lined with silver moonlight, intense emeralds shining like jewels from beneath ebony lashes. A slightly raised, red scar in the shape of a lightening bolt, peeking out from beneath his wayward fringe. And then there was the dark purpling and yellowing stains marring his pale skin. A crimson crust clinging stubbornly beneath his eye. Bruises and Blood! Permanent feature whilst he resided at 'home'! However, it was something which bothered him no more than actually trying to find a way to cover them up. And since he found glamours at the end of his first year, well even that wasn't a problem anymore. This was his life here, no point complaining. Easier to just get on with it, Potter! Funny how his conscience sounded like Professor Snape!

So what if his 'family' hated him, for he had people who loved him and cared for him in the Wizarding World. As far as he was concerned, this was merely a stopover (not of his choosing) for two short months every year until the next. Then he was free! None knew the extent of what occurred here at the place he should call 'home'. In some way, he felt it was perhaps penance for the crimes he had committed, namely murdering two people. The guilt was overwhelming and the grief almost brought him to suicide twice. Cedric and Sirius, the first casualties of war, not the last, but one of the first and he had a hand in both of them.

But enough depressing thoughts. Here it was, 5 minutes before his 16th birthday and all he could think about was his so called family. They weren't even worth the brain power and he wouldn't let them ruin his birthday. They had already managed to ruin a lot of things which meant so much to him. For example, simple touch! A touch, a hand on the shoulder, a hug, a playful shove. All things which had an ingrained reaction to. Flinch and duck and cover! Over the years he had managed to suppress a small amount of it, mainly his closest friends, but the rest he avoided. He had thoroughly fooled everyone and none saw his problems. He would not let them ruin his birthday with bad thoughts.

Wincing slightly, the skinny boy leaned back against the wall relaxing in the comfort of ritual and his yearly birthday tradition on his bed. Glancing at the battered clock, he counted down the minutes and seconds until midnight.....3minutes.....2minutes.....50 seconds .....20seconds.....5,4,3,2,1 .....

"Happy Birthday to me!" he whispered softly and lay back, closing his eyes, a quiet sigh escaping gently.

As such, he therefore didn't notice the faint luminescent glow which appeared around his body. It was a silver shimmer, like the moonlight itself had taken life and bathed his whole form in soft pearly glows. Suddenly a sharp pain erupted from his chest and his eyes shot open. They widened in distress as he took in his surroundings. The pale glow had transformed into a blinding light. There was a faint humming in the background that was vaguely familiar. The pain which had blossomed from his chest had spread from his head to his toes and all the way to his fingertips. It was an all encompassing pain, his mouth opened in a silent scream, still detachedly aware the need for silence in wake of the Dursley's anger. His eye's glowed a killing curse green and he arched his battered body as a surge ripped through him.

Concentrating totally on the immense pain he never noticed the very vocal screams which came unbidden to his lips. He never heard the tell-tale thump of heavy footsteps in the hall, or the door flying off its' hinges or the roar of "Potter!". He didn't even blink as his uncle advanced fists raised to hit, or the silver shield that erupted from him, totally enveloping him.

No all he felt was a great surge of power and pain beyond all comprehension rush through him, through his blood than ran through his body, through every fibre of his being. And the the sweet bliss of darkness.

HPHPHP

Miles away in a magical school called Hogwarts, the Headmaster, the esteemed Albus Dumbledore, sat in the circular room of his office sucking absent-mindedly on his lemon drops, thinking about a young boy, no man now, with particularly messy hair and shocking emerald eyes. How his actions over the past year had hurt the boy he saw as a grandson terribly, and how he had lost the deep-seated trust he had once. In hindsight, he realised how precious that trust was to him, for Harry did not trust lightly and an adult at that, well it was a very short list. And only one he could name for certain. Ah hindsight, it was a beautiful and terrible thing. A deep ache settled in the pit of his stomach. The great Albus Dumbledore, leader of the light, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, was ashamed of his actions last year to the young man.

With all of his renowned wisdom and knowledge, he had made a nearly fateful mistake in boy. distancing himself from the boy. He had blatantly ignored the fact that Harry had shown more resilience than many men twice his age had in the face of adversary. He should of known Harry would have been able to deal with the complications of last year if he had known. It pained him to see the suspicious distrust lurking beneath the stoic mask he always wore whenever they had met last year. He knew he had a lot to atone for, however he vowed with all his power he would do what was right by the boy and earn back the child's trust.

Lost in his thoughts, he never noticed the emerald jewel, a seemingly unobtrusive, yet beautiful object on his desk, glow a soft crimson colour. Even as the shimmer intensified, so focused inward that he was, he missed the shrill whirring that rang through his office.

Observing him, was his ever loyal friend, who was growing considerably alarmed at his mentor's inaction. The old coot, as he often referred to him affectionately, was completely locked away in his thoughts, dangerously oblivious to everything. Fawkes knew that the emerald was tied to the young boys life, the boy whose eyes matched the emeralds. And he liked the boy, he had a quiet power and pureness which was steadfast. He knew he had a major role in the upcoming war, more important than his wise friend could know. Frustrated at the lack of response from his friend, he swooped angrily and with an indignant squawk, he swiped the hat off the old fart's head.

Startled from his thoughts Dumbledore immediately was assaulted with the cacophony of sound that was suddenly in his office. Then recognition dawned upon him and his face paled dramatically. Harry's lifestone, the crimson colour almost shadowed the emerald completely. Harry was hanging onto life by the barest thread. He needed help and the only other teacher in the castle at the moment was Severus, an order member to boot. Without another word, and in a flash of colour he was out the door.

Satisfied, Fawkes settled back on his perch and preened his feathers. Every so often he would glance at the door, or would cock his head to the side as if listening to something only he could hear. He was worried for the scruffy, little jewel-eyed kid. He hoped they would make it in time before he broke!

HPHPHP

Back at Privet Drive, Harry slowly came around. Pain! Pain engulfed him from all sides and angles. He couldn't move and he felt drained, both physically and magically. His injuries flare anew with pain. He was sprawled on his bed, the silver shield glowing faintly around him, flickering in and out, like a battery running low on power. He whimpered slightly as he shifted. This was not good! How could he his chores in this state? He shivered as he thought of the punishment he would receive. A flash of light and a second later his shield dissipated. Harry just lay gasping for breath quietly on his bed. Well, he'd be lucky if he wasn't expelled from Hogwarts, for he was sure huge amounts of magic was used last night. He could feel it in the sir, the slight crackle, like static electricity and a pulsing in his ears.

So focused inwards that he was, he failed to notice his Uncle beginning to stir on the floor from where he landed after the magical surge. Rocking slightly on his heels Dursley immediately spotted his nephew and moved stealthily, for his massive size, a murderous glint lurking behind his eyes. Apparently the commotion had been kept to this room only, as Pet and Dudders hadn't investigated. Good! No interference. It was time for the Freak to learn a lesson, in his opinion. He tensed, fist clenched, teeth grinding, in an effort to restrain himself, until the appropriate time. He waited and ever so slowly, Harry raised his eyes, shock flashing across his face as he registered the scene. Terror lit his eyes! Dursley fed off the fear and the control it gave. With a malicious grin, and feral snarl he pounced!

The bed gave way under the huge weight of his Uncle and Harry immediately fell into unconsciousness as his head smashed into the wall behind. A hidden blessing, it was, as his Uncle began to rain punches down upon his small, malnourished frame, whilst muttering about no good freaks. Slowly the life force of the young boy was dwindling, to the faintest it could be whilst never giving up. He could not die by his Uncle's hand. However his spirit was slowly breaking and with it the hope of the Wizarding world.

HPHPHP

Just outside walking briskly down the street was a pale Dumbledore and an irritated, yet slightly concerned Severus Snape. Snape had never seen Dumbledore like this, hell he had never seen Dumbledore scared in his whole life. And this scared him! Sure he didn't even fear Voldemort, so what in the nine hells had Potter done this time?

Meanwhile Dumbledore just prayed that they weren't too late, all the while ignoring the strange looks Severus was giving him. Hurriedly, half jogging, half running up the prim path to Number 4, Privet Drive, Dumbledore dispensed of the unnecessary manners and broke into the house sneakily, worthy of a Slytherin, wand at ready and missing the shocked look that flashed in Snape's eyes. Little did Snape know that he had the house monitored for Dark Auras and there was no indication of any. Therefore it was no deatheathers but an internal force or unknown danger. This of course didn't ease his mind one bit!

Lighting their wands with a quiet lumos, they took in their surroundings, for any present threats. The house, both inside and out, was the definition of normal to the extent that it was actually abnormal. It was unnatural to be this normal, this clean, this precise, not a speck of dust evident, or dirty sock escaping the laundry. Photo's lined the walls, the gaps in-between each, measured within the millimetre and all of the same pig-like kid and his parents, Potter's cousin if Petunia was to be recognised beside him. And therein lay the problem for Snape, where were the ones of Potter. Surely the pampered Golden boy would have a whole wall to himself? But further investigation only threw up more blanks. Snape found himself wandering around, searching for any sign of another occupant within the house. A sign that another being, a wizard at that resided here, an owl feather, a broken quill, perhaps some spare parchment lying around, anything. But there was nothing! Zero, Nada, zilch and this didn't settle well with Snape at all. A dark foreboding clouded his mind. Dumbledore didn't seem to be having anymore luck than Snape and his anxious expression was worrying Snape.

Silently Dumbledore motioned them upstairs and they were faced with 4 doors, one obviously being a bathroom as the door was slightly open, leaving a slither of light to find its way into the hall. The others must be the bedrooms, though one door looked more like a cell with all the padlocks on the outside and a cat flap at the bottom. Keeping something in. They stood contemplating their next move, though frequently Snape would glance at the padlocked door. Something about that door stirred dregs of worry in the pit of his stomach.

All was quiet but the faint slap and thump of muffled sound. Slap? Thump? To Snape, the ever observant spy, it sounded like flesh upon flesh. A smack or punch or something. Horror flashed across his face as his brain caught up with what he was thinking and he raced to the padlocked door from where the faint sounds where emitting from. Dumbledore was but a breath behind him. Without faltering he used his raw magic and burst through the door. And what hit their eyes would be etched into their very eyeballs for an eternity. Particularly Snape, who had just had his previous ideals of one Harry Potter thrown out the window and into the breeze. Some form, some sort of being, vaguely resembling a whale, was pounding incessantly at the still form of Potter muttering insane words such as 'freak', 'cleanse', and 'destroy' over and over again. Finally coming to his sense, as Potter made a slight movement, Snape roared "Expelliarmus!"

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	3. Chapter 3

**A/N – Here's the next chapter so lads. Loads of hits, but no review makes poor little me sad :( Pretty please review! Enjoy! ~silvermoonfae**

**Disclaimer – Disclaimer: I do not own anything remotely related to the fantastic world of J.K Rowling!**

**Oaths and Determination**

"Expelliarmus"

Such primal magic was expended in that one first year spell, that Dursley actually shot into the opposite wall, almost through it actually, knocking him out cold for a second time. Dumbledore still stood stock still in the doorway, eyes widened in shock, staring at Harry, who looked more like minced meat than human at the moment.

"Dumbledore, now is not the time!" Snape hissed and rushed to Harry's side. Kneeling beside him, he gently brushed the boy's bangs from his eyes and was startled to see glowing green peeking from beneath dark lashes.

"P'rfessor?" he slurred painfully "Hogwarts?" he asked disjointedly.

"Hush Harry, it's OK. Yes straight to Hogwarts to get you seen to," he reassured trying to keep the panic from his voice as he simultaneously diagnosed Harry himself as he minor healing training as both healing and potions were closely related. Harry laughed weakly before sputtering.

"First time, - ever, - my name!" he gasped. Snape stared at him strangely, wondering if he had received a bang to his head. He marvelled that he could still laugh at such a minor thing in such a dire situation. Turning to Dumbledore, he had realised the old man still hadn't moved.

"Dumbledore, portkey now!" he snapped. "I need to stabilise him first. Go ahead and warn Poppy that we'll be arriving straight into the infirmary," Snape ordered. This shook Dumbledore into motion, emitting another small wheezy laugh from Harry, and fluidly he produced a portkey, shoving it into Snape's hands before rushing off to Poppy to warn her of the incoming patient. Snape turned back to Harry, who was watching the scene with interest through pain glazed eyes, a slight smile still evident on his face.

"Now Harry, I need to stabilise you. Your injuries are too serious and numerous to move you in this condition with awareness and yet you need immediate attention. I'd suggest a deep sleep spell, but if not we'll think of something else." Snape said gently, hoping the child would agree, for he planned to use the spell whether or not he did. He just needed it to seem like he was giving a choice.

"Whatever – think – best – perfessor – though – not too painful," Harry wheezed out. Snape turned his disbelieving eyes once again upon Harry, registering for the first time that he wasn't curled up in agony or crying out in pain. The only indication that there was any at all was his pain filled eyes. He was amazed at his pain tolerance. It must be incredibly high.

"Deep sleep it is. Be prepared, Somilus!" he said softly and Harry went limp on the bed.

HPHPHP

Voices . . .fragmented pieces of conversation . . .whispers . . .sadness . . .even a touch of anger . . .all this flitted in and out of Harry's consciousness. Everything was very heavy and painful, from the roots of his hair to the nails on his baby fingers. Everything hurt! He couldn't open his eyes, too heavy. He panicked! He didn't like complete darkness, oblivion, from a very young age. It was a horrid reminder of his dark cupboard, his prison. It was enough that it haunted his dreams never mind his consciousness, if he really was conscious. Well there was some sort of awareness anyhow. He tried to call for help. A small mewling noise reverberated through his head. Was that him? He whimpered again and began to toss and turn. Restraints! He became frantic. The disembodied voices became intense. Something brushed against him! And again! 'Leave me be' he screamed within the confines of his mind, but still something emerged from his mouth. A small and pathetic "No".

Then a silky voice wrapped him in a deep warmth, mellowing out the darkness so it seemed to be more of a very deep green than black. He relaxed instinctively. It issued soothing words of comfort, which were indistinguishable to his muddled mind, yet it calmed him. Then the soft voice pervaded clearly the dark green enveloping his mind "Hush child. You are safe! Home! Relax and sleep" it said. A small sigh of contentment left his lips with a relieved soft "Home," and with that he drifted off, with the reassurance of knowing he was safe. He was Home. At Last!

HPHPHP

Snape watched sadly as the child calmed with his soft words and drifted off again. The child was still badly hurt. Mme. Pomphrey couldn't heal everything up front, as it would take too much from his small already weakened body. He was therefore, still a sight to see and must still be in an inordinate amount of pain.

Merlin above, how long had he suffered at the hands of his relations? Why didn't anyone see this? Why didn't I see this? Was I truly that blinded by my hate of James Potter, completely forgetting that Harry was not him? Far from it! He felt himself well up with guilt. Even after his promise to Lily to keep her child safe, he had failed! With a sigh he got up from Harry's bedside, from where he had knelt, and faced both Mme. Pomphrey and Dumbledore who had both fallen silent at this time. Mme. Pomphrey still had tears sparkling in her eyes, red rimmed and raw from crying so much after the state she had found the poor child brought to her. Dumbledore was ashen with sadness etched deeply into every line on his face, particularly after Harry's reaction to his touch. A simple touch which evoked such a violent reaction!

With a sigh Dumbledore closed his eyes wearily and thought of all that had happened within the last few days. The discoveries they had made and the trauma, young Harry had been subjected to. The trauma he had been subjected to by himself, Dumbledore, as it was his decision to ignore the Potter's will and send their soon to his closest living relatives, the Dursleys. Guilt settled heavily upon his weary shoulders. He should of checked on him throughout the years, such a small oversight had such far reaching and almost fatal consequences. Now, however, he could see how relaxed Harry had become under Severus' calming presence when he had panicked. Maybe this will do them both the world of good. But it should NEVER had been through such dire circumstances as these.

Madame Pomphrey was soundly berating herself for such an oversight herself. She had been his nurse for 5 years now and she had never suspected abuse, not even to a minor degree. Particularly after the amount of time he spent in the hospital wing throughout the school year. How had he hidden it? How had he deceived them all to such a degree? It was just impossible, and yet he had done it. Like the other two the guilt had set in.

A heavy silence pervaded the hospital wing, leaving them all lost within their thoughts, only the raspy breath of Harry's breathing breaking it. Finally Dumbledore spoke after what seemed like an age, "Well, it seems I have done Harry a great injustice. I should never had placed him there. I should of listened to Minerva." he finished off in a whisper, a lone tear escaping, and trickling down his lined face.

Snape sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose in distress and weariness. "Albus, we are all at fault here to some degree. Not just you. We are the adults here, we all have had some sort of contact with him for 5 years now. Merlin everyone knows he practically lives in the hospital wing, and Merlin only knows how many abused children I have dealt with during my own tenure here. With the foolish Gryffindor Golden Boy façade, for that's what it is, I see now, no one, teachers or student alike suspected. I doubt even his closest friends knew. Yet we should have seen, Hindsight is precious, and only now, looking back do I see hints of the abused child, not the Golden Boy.

Madame Pomphrey sniffled and dabbed her eyes dry. "He's right Albus. All us teachers and me a nurse, should have caught on. But we were all disillusioned by the strength of character that he has shown us time and time again. I'm beginning to wonder if Severus is right and it is all just some illusion to keep us out of the know."

Dumbledore seemed strengthened by the show of solidarity by those two people, willing to share the blame. Though he knew deep down it was still the majority the blame that he should receive. "We must help him. We should of seen, but we didn't. Poppy what's his situation?" Dumbledore said sharply, pulling himself together, showing them the leader of the light as they knew him.

"The list is so long I wouldn't know where to begin. Suffice it know that he still has the majority of the bruises he has received in their care, a few broken ribs, a concussion and various cuts still to heal but he is miles better than he was." She paused, seeing the horror in Dumbledore's eyes at this was much better than he was before. In his eyes he was far from better at all! She continued though explaining that reasoning. "I have already done more healing on him than I should have on any normal wizard or witch his age. But either choice I had still had a 50/50 chance of him dying. This was the best course and he is strong. He will survive and he is doing much better physically. Emotionally? Merlin above only knows how damaged he will be. But I have no doubt of some mental scars anyway." Then she seemed to crumple in upon herself, her report stature completely disappearing as she finished, and the sadness and hint of guilt reappearing again a she lay her soft gaze upon Harry.

"Very well, I have things to organise for our young charge, but I shall be back to see him and expect hourly reports. He is NEVER going back there," he intoned, steel flashing in his ice cold blue eyes and with a whirl and billow of robes that would have done Snape proud he stalked out with purpose lining every step he took. He would not fail the boy again.

Madame Pomphrey flitted about mumbling about this and that and what would be needed for Harry's recovery, eventually turning to her office, anger still evident in her step, before shutting the door quietly, leaving Snape alone with the child.

Somehow he felt awkward, though no one was there to see him. He contemplated returning to his dungeons, but with a weary sigh, he just settled into the chair by Po- no- Harry's bedside. He stared distantly at the child, noticing each raspy breath, his battered face, dark circles beneath his eyes and his malnourished frame. 'Oh Lily. If only you could see what we have done. You'd probably curse us all the way to hell and back again!'

Wallowing in his guilt for a while, he lifted his head from his hands, determination glinting within the depths of his obsidian gaze. "I shall not fail the child again. I shall help him whether he desires it so or not." he whispered forcefully and sincerely. "I know he will," and even quieter, "For I know I did." The pact was so sincere, that he unintentionally brought his magic into play, sealing the oath. He closed his eyes in remembered pain and when he opened them he was amazed to see the swirl of magic around him, before realising the impact the oath he had made had. Looking at Harry, his gaze softened every so slightly to be almost indiscernible. Suddenly he noticed the emerald eyes peeking from beneath dark lashes, a slight hopeful smile curling his lips. Startled he paled slightly. 'Uh oh!' he thought uncharacteristically. He had been caught . . . been caught being nice. He shuddered at the knowing look in Harry's slightly pain-filled gaze. 'Uh oh!' he once again thought before the muggle phrase floated across his mind 'Busted!' . . .

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	4. Chapter 4

**A/N – OK guys, again the whole review thing is a bit depressing :( but sure, I'll get over it. :) So here's another chapter. Before anyone points out I do know that the characters are very OCC but it was the way it played out in my mind and it is AU, so expect the unexpected! Not much action, but this chapter had to be included to explain some of the whys and hows and such. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Please review ~silvermoonfae**

**Disclaimer – I do not own anything remotely related to the fantastic world of J.K Rowling!**

**Tentative Truce**

"Po – Harry. Are you experiencing any pain?" Snape almost stuttered, trying to regain his composure stoically, berating himself silently 'Stupid question. Stupid, stupid question Severus. Of course he is'.

"Professor? Hospital Wing?" Harry tried to ask. Though on the mend, he still had difficulty breathing and couldn't seem to get the right words to form in his mouth.

Snape saw his difficulties and waved his wand silently over the child. "Better?" he asked trying not to completely shatter his whole grumpy dungeon persona he had composed down through the years. Instead he tried to ease off it.

Harry gave a sigh of relief, "Thanks professor, much better!"

"In answer to your previous question, of course you are in the hospital wing. You have healed significantly already, however due to the severity of your injuries, you still have a long way to go,"Snape said quietly, a bit of sadness shining in his black gaze at what the child had gone through.

Harry was barely paying attention, however, for he was totally and utterly amazed. Who would have thought that Snape, of all people, would have a soothing bedside manner. He was quiet and soft (really Snape soft??) but that was the only way he could describe him at the moment. And his silky voice brought an instant calm whilst in his presence. Coming to his senses he finally realised what Snape had said. His eyebrows rose, hiding beneath his messy bangs. "It's alright sir. I've had worse. The pain is insignificant. Nothing more than discomforting, is all." he assured the professor dismissively.

It was Snape's turn for the eyebrow to creep upwards towards his hairline, arching elegantly in disbelief, his awkwardness now forgotten. He was appalled that the child could have fared any worse than he was now at his 'home' and still survive without any medical treatment. And without magical treatment at that! "Harry, if this is merely 'discomforting' as you have described it, I shudder to comprehend the other situations in which you fared worse." he said dryly.

Harry flushed, suddenly aware at what he had implied and not at all happy with his indiscretion. "Uh, yeah, em, nothing really was meant sir – you know – em - exaggeration and all that – uh . ." he stuttered uncomfortably, giving truth to the fact that he was lying by averting his eyes and the slight flush maintained on his face and neck.

"Articulate as ever, Harry", Snape said without a hint of his former sneer or malice. It was almost comprehensible to see Snape without his customary traits and again, Harry was shocked into silence and almost missed the last part of what Snape was saying. ". . .we shall be discussing this as soon as feasible, whether it be with myself, the headmaster or Poppy." he said sternly.

Harry gulped nervously and then it hit him. Snape wanted to help him. Him, Harry Potter, son of his childhood enemy, James Potter, and arrogant Gryffindor Goldenboy? Something was off here. And he was not about to be duped into trusting any sort of adults, no matter their intentions, for the moment. He eyed the professor strangely and suspiciously.

Snape fought not to fidget under the suspicious scrutiny. Had he done something wrong? Said something? He didn't like to admit it but he was nervous. He needed to gain the boys trust for , more than anything he wanted to help him, to get him through this. For though he seemed fairly stable at the moment, he knew it couldn't last, it wouldn't last for that matter. He had dealt with enough abuse cases, though none as severe as this, to know and expect an eventual breakdown.

"Sir, no offence or anything, but what's the deal?" Harry stated bluntly in what Snape had deemed, 'typical Gryffindor brashness'. "You've hated me for years. You've treated me worse than the dirt on the bottom of your shoes. Why the sudden change?"

Snape sighed wearily, merely exhausted at the immense task ahead of him. Again typical Gryffindor to use such crude metaphors. But how to explain it all to him? He now suddenly understood the suspicions of the child. He couldn't expect any semblance of civility between them after their history. He would have to explain. Again he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in agitation. 'This was gonna be tough!' "Harry, first of all, I'd like to address the fact that I have NEVER hated you. I disliked you, certainly and I admit for completely the wrong reasons, but a lot of that was to do with my 'loyal death eater' act for the Slytherins and other death eaters. I am more than willing to forgo these unnecessary actions for the summer at least. Secondly, I know what you have gone through. I know what it's is like." He held up an elegant, potion-stained hand to forestall any protest of denial from the boy. "I do Harry," he said emphatically, "from my own experience, and based on various cases within the Slytherin, and indeed the odd few from other houses. However, the Slytherin house receives more, for reasons I know not. But we're not all junior death eaters. Many have suffered somewhat and have less than happy life's. We are a large extended family that can relate to each other and help healing. Therefore, I do know what you are going through." He pause to let that sink in. Harry's eyes had gone as wide as saucers and his mouth opened in a silent 'oh' at such revelations.

"Well that explains a lot," Harry finally whispered.

"What do you mean?" Snape said curiously.

Harry glance at him sideways, a most Slytherin smirk spread across his face, eyes glinting in humour. Snape had to look twice, not believing the expression on the epitome of Gryfindor's face. "Well.." Harry began "the sorting hat was quite adamant to place me in Slytherin" he said nonchalantly. He smirked again as Snape's face dropped in disbelief and denial. "I of course argued ferociously with it to place me anywhere but there."

"That indeed explains a lot."Snape faintly. Harry enjoyed shocking the usually guarded Snape. But then he remembered the seriousness of the conversation and his face dropped back into a familiar tense and worried look.

Snape recovered, though his brain still hadn't fully understood the implications of that, he would think of it later. Now he watched Harry deep in thought, sadness permeating every line on his face. He suppressed another sigh. Really the boy was like an open book. Emotions played out constantly across his face, though sadness was still the prevailing emotion. He mentally put Occlumency on his 'to-do list' to help Harry. It was said that the eyes were the windows to your soul. Staring into Harry's eyes, one could easily believe that. Disbelief, sadness, fear, wariness and finally the tiniest hint of hope, flashed in them. Such tentative hope, as if he expected it to be shattered at a moments notice, which is probably true, from the little he could glean from Harry's 'relatives' behaviour.

"Sir, I don't mean to sound ungrateful and all, you did save me from . . . from 'that place' after all," he stammered averting his gaze. 'Yes' Snape thought ' a talk would be needed soon about 'that place' as Harry so eloquently put it.' "But as much as I would like to believe you, in you, I just . . . just cant. Even if it weren't for our . . . " he paused almost fearfully " . . .history!" he finished. Harry was tense, eyes clenched, fists closed, waiting for the expectant hand on flesh, more specifically his flesh. He was shivering slightly. He couldn't trust anybody, nobody at all. He was alone, by himself, in both worlds. It was all he knew.

Snape's heart clenched at the sight Harry had been reduced to. Expecting to be hit. It was heartbreaking to see such an ingrained reaction in the boy and finally, in an all-shattering blow, the ice that encased his heart fell away, by the very picture of destroyed innocence Harry presented. As much as he wanted to comfort the child, he knew he couldn't. Such a move could be misconstrued whilst Harry was in such a state of mind. He had to rely on conveying his intentions through his emotions and words, no matter how uncomfortably he felt.

"Harry," he called softly, interlocking his fingers in hope he wouldn't inadvertently move to the child. "Child, look at me, please!" Perhaps it was the shock of hearing the man almost beg, but Harry tentatively raised his eyes to Snape's obsidian gaze, at which he flinched at the intensity of it. Immediately, Snape softened it perceptively, "Harry, I need to firstly impress upon you that I, and everyone here, will NEVER hit you or hurt you in anger or pleasure or any other emotion for that fact. You will certainly know if we are angry, but we will never raise our hand to a child. EVER!" There was still a suspicious glint in the boy's own eyes but it had lessened noticeably with his statement. Pleased at that minute victory, Snape continued, "Secondly, I don't expect you to trust us straight away. We should of seen what you have been enduring years ago. We didn't and I know nothing can compensate for that oversight. And now, in hindsight, I see that you have never really trusted any of us here, adult or student alike. I just ask that you give us all a chance to help you."

"I don't need help!" Harry cut in sharply. He felt trapped. For years no one had noticed anything, not a hint. And all of a sudden, it's out, the secret he had been harbouring for as long as he could remember had been discovered, by means out of his control. Control! He craved it and suddenly his grip on his own life was spiralling out of his hands. It was a reflex reaction after never having anyone to rely on but himself. He felt overcrowded and trapped and he lashed out like a cornered animal. And Snape understood this. "I've proven myself perfectly capable for years now. It's nothing I can't handle now." Harry snapped angrily.

Snape jumped in after that, "But you should not have had to have fended for yourself. It was not your responsibility as a child and one you have been carrying the burden of for long enough, under secrecy on top of all that. Therefore, let us help! Share the burden, for it was one you were never meant to carry. Let us help you get your life back in YOUR control." He received a sharp look from the boy at this declaration, the anger slowly dissolving. "Yes," Snape nodded "in YOUR control! I'm not asking for complete unwavering trust. I'm just asking, no begging, for a truce. A truce between me and you and between all the adults who wish to help. A second chance, if you must. But don't lock us out, for surely it will destroy you and you've come too far for that!"At this stage Snape couldn't help the pleading tone that his voice took in his impassioned declaration to vilify himself to Harry.

Harry heard the tone, the pleading expression evident in his voice, the sadness inherent in his face and the promise in his eyes. And it was that, that finally convinced Harry to maybe accede to such an offer. He knew deep down that he needed help, even if he didn't want to admit it to himself. And he knew that he would never survive another year under the pretence and expectations everyone placed upon him with all his now mounting problems. He knew he needed help and the at it was most likely going to involve the adults, therefore, perhaps a truce was the best course of action. Slowly he nodded his head in acquiescence and heard Snape sigh thankfully.

The small desperate flicker of hope in Harry's eyes filled Snape with relief. Maybe there could be salvation for Harry in the dire situations in which he was placed in. However, the wariness and suspicion was still evident, but someday he hoped to erase such emotions that had no place in a child's repertoire. However, he had somewhere small to start now and he knew he would have some sort of co-operation and effort on Harry's part now.

"A truce then." Harry whispered dejectedly, head bowed, as if he were afraid to relinquish his trust even that much. But slowly and determinedly he raised his head to stare directly in to Snape's eyes as if to impress the importance of his decision. "But, you all only get one second chance. The truce is fragile and liable to be broken the instant your betray my trust. This I swear, for I shall never again look to you, any of you, if such an occurrence should happen. I will pack it all in and depart the Wizarding world, to leave you to your enemy." He spoke strongly and vehemently, promised echoing in his voice.

Snape inclined his head in acceptance, and barely contained a shiver at the almost prophetic words. He knew that Harry meant them with all his soul. "Terms such as that are more than acceptable, Mr. Potter, given what you have endured," he agreed formally. Then softening slightly he whispered, "I'm glad you have given us a chance, Harry. You deserve a happy, normal life after this and I promise to do all that is in my power to give you that. You wont regret it!" And with that he rose to head back to his dungeons to rest after such emotional conversation. He could tell the child was tiring already as well and the child needed to heal. Just as he reached the door, a soft whisper floated across the room, from the only other occupant that it held.

"I hope so too. I really, really do!"

His heart tore at the pure despair and sadness in that one small statement, that revealed more than anything that he wasn't The-Boy-Lived but just Harry, a young child who has been through the wars and by rights should have already broken, and yet is still tethering on the edge hoping for salvation before having to take the plunge into the darkness. He knew their truce was a tentative one, but he would do everything to solidify the small faith the child had put in their hands. He, Severus Snape, had shattered the walls that shielded his heart from emotion and he vowed to save the small boy, who had so little to give that was precious to give and yet he gave it to them. His trust was something he would not destroy, and would be kept safe and secure, under virtual lock and key, with him. He, Severus Snape, had become a staunch protector of Harry Potter, not the son of James Potter anymore, but the small, scared, abused boy.

**Please please (puppy dog eyes) please review! (Think this will work?? play to their emotional sides?? lol)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N – OK lads, this is the next chapter up and running. My longest one to date, yippee :D I must apologise for the lack of action in this chapter as well. But some important issues had to be sorted out for Harry here before he could move on. I promise that, probably in the next chapter I'll be introducing my own character and the plot will hopefully be moving a bit faster. Please review and enjoy! ~silvermoonfae**

**Disclaimer – I do not own anything remotely related to the fantastic world of J.K Rowling!**

**Secrets of the Innocence and a Listening Ear**

Harry had spent the last two weeks in the infirmary, trying to recover from the latest dose of 'tender loving care' he had received at the hands of his relations. In all fairness the pain was nothing he couldn't handle. As he had already emphasised, he had been in much, much worse, not including the being under the cruciatus curse. Suffice it to say that he had a high pain threshold, a very high pain threshold! However, it was the sheer boredom that was driving him to insanity. He had finished his summer assignments the day after his and professor Snape's 'heart to heart'. Surprisingly the answers seemed to come to him much quicker and instinctively than normal. But he really thought no more of it as the result of having absolutely nothing else to concentrate on here in the empty ward.

The Headmaster, of course had paid a visit soon after. Though he wasn't precisely angry at the Headmaster straight up, he still harboured some grief against him. The conversation was particularly one-sided and full of apologies. Though a truce had been issued, well it was enough to say that what left the infirmary that evening was a headmaster who seemed to have aged considerably in the space of a couple of hours, devoid of his usual twinkle and cheerfulness and a rather full bag of rocks, which Harry of course denied any knowledge of transfiguring the Headmaster's famed lemon drops. Sure he didn't have his wand in hand at all, and even the Headmaster admitted no incantation was uttered.

The highlight of his days had been trying to avoid any sort of serious conversations pertaining to his home situation with the regular visits of Professor Snape. Well, as much as he could avoid it by remaining stuck to the confines of his bed in the same vicinity of the man. So far, using all his Slytherin wit and cunning he had managed to evade it, which frustrated the King of Slytherin to no end and certainly provided some entertainment to the patient and something Harry was personally proud of. However, Snape of course had to burst his bubble, giving up after a mere week (a day more than what Harry had been betting on) and promising a serious talk for later on during the week. Today to be precise.

So now, he sat in his bed (yes HIS bed, Madam Pomphrey had engraved his name on a plaque above the bed due to the amount of time he spent here, or more specifically this bed) alternatively fidgeting compulsively and staring into space. Periods of depression such as these were becoming more and more frequent as time passed. He sank deep within his m9ind, dwelling on the bad and negative aspects of his life, which seemed like all of it to the child. He knew it wasn't healthy and knew Snape and Pomphrey were worried about him, but he could honestly say that he couldn't give a crap.

Sometimes the darkness in his life just seemed so overwhelming and he welcomed the oblivion in which his mind provided for him. He could be lost for hours amidst the swirling blackness until someone managed to pull him (more than likely it was Snape), mostly unwillingly, from his funk. And yet it felt like only minutes to him. It was just so easy to slip in, and forget all the past pain, forget about all his present troubles and problems, forget about eating, forget about sleeping, forget about all the necessary bodily functions, forget about everything and just let it all fade away within the solace of the darkness. He was safe there, no one could touch him, hassle him or question him. He revelled in the feeling . . .

And this was how Snape found him, some two hours later, staring blankly at the same spot on the back wall, barely breathing, barely blinking, barely doing anything at all for that matter. He recognised the symptoms well enough at this stage. He slipped away from them again and into his own mind. It was dangerous and could prove fatal, especially for the depressed boy, with the Dark Lord having access to his mind at certain times.

Snape sighed gently, he seemed to be doing that an enormous amount these days around the boy. Slowly he placed a hand lightly on the boys arm, calling to him gently. "Harry? Harry, come on, snap out of it. Come on back now." He shook his arm minutely, hoping not to disturb the boy, yet knowing he would more than likely react anyway. He was correct as usual.

A slight jolt and instinctive flinch and wince and Harry was back to reality, no worse for wear. A bit dazed perhaps, as he tried to get his bearings. Then understanding dawned upon him and he flushed lightly, embarrassed and turned to his professor. "Ugh, sorry professor. Again?" At his slight nod, he groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Great!" he muttered sarcastically.

"You do know what I'm here for this time, don't you Harry?" Snape reminded him. "We've put it off for long enough now and your are sufficiently recovered for it. You are only allowed to leave this . . ." and here he wrinkled his nose distastefully " . . .prison if we have this talk."

A louder groan issued from the boy and he sunk down, trying to make himself as small as possible. After a few minutes and recognising the futility of his actions, he became more complacent and sat up a bit, with only the slightest discomfort showing at what was to come.

Snape thanked Merlin that there would be no scenarios today for the boy to practice his Slytherin side, whilst Harry was cursing him to the deepest grave for the rotten luck that seemed to find him all through his life.

"Harry, you know you need this. Madame Pomphrey told me you are withdrawing into yourself for longer and longer and it's becoming more commonplace. And it is becoming even more difficult to pull you from them." Snape told him softly. Harry just sulked, crossing his arms, not meeting Snape's eyes. "OK look, we'll just talk about one thing at a time. We'll pick just the one incident and stick within those confines. Today I just want to know what happened when we rescued you. Is that fair enough?" And with that Snape adopted an attentive poise in his chair, prepared to listen to the child's story, without any interruptions.

Harry fidgeted nervously with the bed covers, not daring to look up. He didn't like this. Not at all. He didn't want to relive that night but he couldn't forget it. It was branded into his very mind, reminding him constantly with random images from the incident flashing across his mind's eye at the most inopportune times. He sighed quietly, preparing himself mentally for what he was about to do.

Snape was attentive as ever, not being an undercover spy for nothing. He noticed how nervous Harry was, constantly fidgeting. The fear and apprehension shone on his face, which was pale. He was trembling, readying himself. This was going against every grain in the child's body, that much was evident and he couldn't blame him. He knew he would have to restrain himself from comforting the boy, this was going to be a traumatising experience as it was, any type of interruption could cause him to clam up completely. So all he could do was sit back and wait until the child was ready to begin. Which he would, but in his own time. And wait he did, A full hour, silently, not focusing on the boy in front of him at all, but pretending an acute interest in the objects around him.

After counting the tiles on the ceiling again, for a third time, he heard a whisper break the heavy silence, barely audible and clearly apprehensive. He was startled out of his reverie at the sudden, if quiet noise. He schooled his features and did what no other adult had ever done for Harry before, and just listened, simply gave him him his full attention and listened ". . . it was just like any other summer day, chores, little food, punishments if I didn't complete them on time or to their satisfaction." He didn't elaborate, clearly not wanting to give more information than necessary. Snape let it go, just happy that the boy was talking at all. They could work on details later, when trust had been built. "The only difference to the day was that it was my birthday the next day. Nothing special or anything, but I had a nightly ritual. Every night just before my birthday I would stay up 'till midnight." he stared off in the distance, the past events replaying out in his eyes. Snape just sat quietly, pretending he wasn't there. Trying to make the child as comfortable as possible.

"It started off the same as any other nights before my birthday. I would lay on my bed as comfortable as I could be. . ." something about the way he said that made Snape think he wasn't perhaps particularly comfortable at all. Maybe due to some recent injuries? " . . .counting down the hours, minutes and seconds until my birthday." He paused again, looking directly at Snape for the first time since he had started, pleading and begging with every nuance of body language he possessed not to continue. To just leave it be. But Snape just shook his head silently, urging the boy to have strength and faith to continue. Resignedly, Harry returned to staring at the spot on the back wall, just above Snape's left shoulder, and he continued shakily. "Midnight had arrived, my birthday, when – when all of a sudden," deep breath, "there was this eerie glow lighting up the room. Silver, like the pale moonlight that had fascinated me so. Then there was this unimaginable pain, worse than the cruciatus curse!" His face was screwed up in remembered pain, as he tried to organise his thoughts.

Snape was thinking about Harry's reference to the magic that obviously occurred that night. Even Dumbledore's sensors had registered it, therefore it was painfully obvious that the boy was telling the truth. It wasn't unusual for Wizards and Witches to come into their majority, their powers maturing, on their 16th birthday, and the fact that it was Harry's birthday and the eerie glow would attain to that. But the pain? It was more of a tingle for most Wizards and Witches, and for the more powerful it was an uncomfortable dull pain, like a throb. But unimaginable pain? Worse than the cruciatus? For that matter, where had the child experienced that unforgivable? How powerful was this child, if indeed he came into his majority? He arched an eyebrow thoughtfully. It was rumoured that Merlin himself, endured excruciating pain when he had reached his majority. But really? Harry? This obviously something which warranted an investigation once the child had recovered fully and was able to withstand such tests. For now, he had to concentrate again, as the whisper had drifted again upon his ears.

". . . tried to hold in the pain, suppress it internally, not to scream. It definitely wouldn't be a good idea to wake up Uncle Vernon at such an hour. But the pain had become unbearable at some point and I didn't even notice when my silent screams became audible." Another deep, cleansing breath and he persevered, "And that's when my Uncle came in I think. I don't remember much, just slipping into darkness when the pain became too much. However, the magic must have performed some sort of shield to protect me. For when I awoke, the shield had just began to flicker out of existence. I hadn't noticed my Uncle knocked out at the foot of my bed, he must have done something incredibly stupid for the magic whilst I was vulnerable for the magic to react as such. I was in pain now, but it had dulled to a bearable throb. And I didn't even notice him come round until the first pu-punch fle-flew," he stuttered and turned completely away from Snape. He felt ashamed. How could he have let, that, that muggle, beat him like that? It was all in the open now, no more speculations by anybody now. He had admitted it. He sucked in a sharp breath, kept his eyes closed, head bowed and proceed in a dull, monotone voice. "The pain was nothing I wasn't used to so I deemed it insignificant and took it silently until I was not unconscious."

He turned to Snape again, tears of shame glittering in his dead eyes. "That's it sir. That's all I can remember! No more this evening, just, no more." And completely drained, he slumped down and curled into a very small ball and rocked himself gently in comfort. It was done.

Snape was horrified at what had happened to the child. He glared into space angrily for awhile, vowing the ultimate revenge on the Dursleys. He composed himself and slowly and gently he placed a delicate potion-stained hand tentatively on the child's back, ignoring the flinch, offering what comfort he could.

Harry tensed, unprepared for any sort of comfort at all. But then he did something he had never done in almost 15 years. 15 long years and he finally succumbed to his emotions. And let them have control over him for once, and he let the first tears fall slowly down his face. It signified a new beginning, a better one, yet a long road to it. Everything at the moment was just overwhelming, his pent up emotions forced to be held in check by his damnable relations finally were releases like a whirlwind. He was sobbing now, quietly, something that would never change, but nonetheless he was healing. He was scared, someone was finally willing to give him the comfort he so craved but he was reluctant to accept for fear it would be taken away and all this was some harsh, cruel joke. He cried for everything that had happened to him, for his life. He cried for himself, finally!

Snape offered what comfort he could from the tentative tactile contact Harry would allow. But it was enough. His heart ached as the child broke down under the pressure of it all. He could see the internal struggle he was locked in with himself. But was relieved when the child finally accepted the comfort and the ability to just cry. He was glad, for the child needed to get it all out of his system, the hurt and the pain, or it would fester within him. He sat there for hours, as the child worked the virtual poison his relatives fed him out of his body, rubbing soothing circles on his back. Whispering constantly, "It's OK child, Let it out. Everything will be alright!"

HPHPHP

The next day Harry awoke with an acute embarrassment over his breakdown the previous day. And in front of Snape of all people. Sure he had proven he had a human side, but Harry couldn't help the seed of suspicion that remained over his previously snarky potions professor. However he had to admit, he felt a lot lighter, like an imaginary weight had been lifted from his chest after yesterday. He was mortified that he had blubbered all over his professor, but he had a warm tingly feeling from the comfort he received from the man, and hope had settled somewhere at the lack of snide or cruel remarks. Perhaps he was truly trying to help. Maybe this could work. And this revelation brought a soft, sad, yet hopeful smile to the child's face.

Snape paused in the doorway to the infirmary, a slight smile on his own face after witnessing Harry's own smile. It was good to see him smile again, something he confessed to himself he couldn't remember him doing for a long time until now. His eye's, Lily's eyes, they were made for smiling, as it brought an extra glow and twinkle to them, quite unlike the Headmasters and genuine in every aspect.

Schooling his expression, not wanting to scare the child out of his wits seeing the grumpy potions professor smiling. He approached the bed cautiously, making sure that Harry could track his every movement at all times. Though they had made a significant breakthrough yesterday, Harry still had to undergo a lot more healing both physically and mentally. No need to make the child any more uncomfortable if possible. He settled in his usual chair at the boy's bedside, amusement glinting in his eyes at he curiosity piqued in Harry's.

"The Headmaster and I have been discussing your situation as you know, you shall not be returning to your horrid relations. Therefore, it was decided you shall be staying here as it can offer you the next best protections after your Aunt's place." Unashamed joy lit up the boy's face. "However, you still have a way to go before you have completely recovered, though you shall be released from here in a couple of days. So you will need someone close at hand for the remainder of your recovery. As I am momentarily the only professor besides the headmaster in the school at the moment, we thought it would be wise for you to stay with me, particularly due to the Healer's training I have." The happy glimmer dimmed somewhat, but there were no protestations which somewhat bolstered the professor to continue.

"You shall have your own room, a schedule to follow and there will be a series of rules to abide by and punishments for any infractions." At the hint of fear that appeared with this statement he quickly elaborated, "However, and I shall reiterate this, I shall NEVER raise my hand to you or any other child. It will be more along the lines of your previous detentions. Is that acceptable?"

Harry nodded quietly. He was not thrilled at the prospect of bunking at the professors' and the fact that he needed a babysitter. But at least it wasn't the headmaster. He just wasn't ready to face him again yet. A potion-stained hand grasped his own lightly in support, while the other tilted his head up to meet Snape's eyes. He fought the urge to pull away and surrendered to looking the professor in the eyes, and saw the sympathy and determination residing there.

"We will get you through this, Harry. It will be OK." he assured with solid conviction. "Everything will be alright!"

**Please, please, please review! :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N – Next chapter up and ready to roll. Hope their was a bit more flow to this one than the others and a bit of a surprise at the end ;) Cant wait for feedback, good or bad. Thanks a mill and enjoy! ~silvermoonfae**

**Disclaimer – I do not own anything remotely related to the fantastic world of J.K Rowling!**

**Parseltongue : ^...text goes here...^ (you should recognise it once you come to it)**

**New Beginnings and Surprises**

Harry couldn't sit still. He was restless with suppressed energy at the prospect of escape today. Finally he was out of this prison (no offence to Madame Pomphrey). Nothing could displace his excitement today, not even knowing who he was going to spend the rest of the summer with. Nope it didn't bother him at all. Well . . . maybe a small bit. But at the moment, getting rid of the boring whitewash walls, and sterile bedding was well worth the price of living with Professor Snape. He was just waiting on the man himself, to return and present the all clear to him from Madame Pomphrey. Yes he couldn't wait! Bouncing his legs and biting his lip in anticipation, staring out the bright window at the sunny day that seemed to reflect the teens own mood. He was completely unaware of his surroundings, so focused on controlling his inner excitement and the hope that he wouldn't have to see the inner workings of the infirmary for a long time. Therefore, he failed to notice the shadow approaching him,until a hand gently stilled his bouncing legs.

He flinched at the unexpected contact, closed his eyes and took a deep breath to ward of the encroaching memories that threatened to overwhelm him and tried to relax and take stock of the situation. The hand quickly retracted and he cautiously peeked out from beneath his messy bangs, only seeing voluminous black robes. He sighed angrily, arms crossed tensely, refusing to meet Snape's eyes. He was annoyed and ashamed with himself. Why couldn't he train himself from constantly flinching the whole time? It never usually took this long at the beginning of every other year and usually he had it down by a week at the very maximum. It wasn't supposed to be this hard!

Snape watched the boy struggle with his emotions. It was painfully clear that the child was embarrassed by his reaction. But he knew it would take a lot longer to heal his issues this time round. The other times he more than likely suppressed his emotions, buried them deep within himself, locked away, until the start of the next summer, never fully resolving them. He placed a hand sympathetically on the boy's shoulder ignoring the tensing.

"Don't be ashamed of your reactions." he assured quietly "You will heal, just keep in mind that it wont always be like this. Hold onto that thought like a lifeline, when the days seem dark and dreary and hopeless. OK?" he soothed.

The now subdued child nodded apprehensively. He angled himself away from the professor as much as possible, his whole demeanour screaming of a world weariness. He hated it, the problems he had. Even away from his hateful relations, he couldn't be normal. It made his relatives derogatory words, such as the commonly used 'freak!' , all the easier to believe.

"Come Harry, you've received the all clear from Madame Pomphrey. So you are released from this 'prison' finally, and I believe you have been literally itching to get out of here all day now." he arched an delicate eyebrow in question, head cocked slightly to the side, eyes glittering with some unknown emotion.

Harry's countenance brightened perceptively, the light returning to his eyes, making him look more his age, even though his small stature indicated otherwise. It warmed him to see glimpses of the child that Harry should have been and not the abused child he was.

"Come then, follow me." he motioned. He waited until the child extricated himself from the bed sheets and retrieved the crutch he was to use until such a time his strength returned. When he was ready, Snape turned gracefully to the door yet visibly restraining himself from the usual sweeping steps and billowing robes theatrics , instead accommodating himself to the slower patter of the child on his crutch. "Please, take care to note the route we're taking. I don't want to have to spend all my time chasing you around the maze that is the lower dungeons." Snape impressed upon him.

Harry resisted the temptation to roll his eyes at the slightly condescending tone of the Professor. Five years in the castle and him get lost? Son of the marauders, lost? Yeah right! But as they ventured deeper and deeper into the bowels of the castle, he began to take heed of the professor's words, eyes wide in disbelief. This couldn't even be classified as a maze. It consisted of twists and turns, crossroads and intersections and turns everywhere you looked. He wasn't willing to admit defeat. He wasn't willing to admit he was completely and hopelessly lost in the wake of the professor's footsteps. How an earth did the Slytherins manage to manage to navigate through such an intricate labyrinth. He now had a new-found sense of respect for the Slytherins with the simple fact that they never seemed to be late for class, thus he came to the conclusion that they never got lost.

Snape saw the hopelessly lost look on the boy's face and the determination not to admit any weakness. He was laughing internally, he knew the boy would never find his way in just one trip down to the dungeons, but hopefully it would take his mind off of where he was going. He was well aware of the child's reluctance. Early on his Slytherins learned to navigate their way through the bowels of the innermost dungeons, learning every twist and turn, every shortcut, thus having a sense of respect for the castle itself and its secrets.

Finally, the first straight Harry had seen devoid of any turns or intersections loomed, leading to a dead-end. Two paintings adorned the walls opposite each other. One of a tall dark, handsome man, with striking forest green eyes, and a snake draping around his lean frame, a sword propped on the wall of the portrait, on which the man was lounging lazily against.

The second was a depiction of two snakes, the same but opposite. One black with a white underbelly and eerie white eyes. The other was pure white, with a black underbelly and creepy black eyes. They were twined around a tree, both moving in complete synchronisation, as if they were two halves of a whole. They fascinated Harry and he was inexplicably drawn to them but the professor steered them towards the portrait. But he kept in mind to investigate later.

"Ah professor, how are you?" the portrait smoothly inquired. It reminded Harry unwittingly of professor Snape.

"I'm fine, thank you." Then turning to him he introduced, "And this is my charge, Harry. Harry, this is Salazar Slytherin." His eyes sparkled in amusement as Harry's jaw dropped with an almost audible thunk.

^Ssuch a rudess boy, ssstaringss at uss^ Hissed Salazar's companion.

^Now, now Adalinda, be politess^ Salazar scolded.

Coming to his senses, Harry bowed politely, hissing ^my apologies, my lord, I wass jusst sshocked, I did not meanss to be impolite.^Salazar and his snake, Adalinda, seemed quite shocked themselves.

"Ah Severus, a speaker, and such a polite young 'un as well. How did he manage to evade my house?" Salazar asked, arching an eyebrow, again, reminiscent of the Professor. While the professor himself seemed mildly amused at their interaction.

"He duped the hat into placing him in Gryffindor," he answered in a strangely strangled tone. If only he had gotten into his house. They probably would of discovered this situation a whole lot sooner.

Salazar gave a hearty laugh, "Ah yes, a true Slytherin indeed, if he managed to deceive the sorting hat."

Snape inclined his head in polite acquiescence, before giving the password. "Fleur-de-lis!"

Salazar bowed regally, "As you wish Severus." Then he turned to Harry, eyeing him interestingly. "I hope to speak to you again, young speaker." And with that the portrait slid aside, revealing the door and allowing them entrance to the professor's quarters.

"Remember the password, Harry. I shall inform you of any changes beforehand," he advised beckoning Harry to enter.

Harry stepped awkwardly into the portrait hole due to his crutch. But with an almost impossible twist and tangle of limbs, he managed to climb through. At first glance, he thought he had stepped into the wrong portrait hole. Surely, this wasn't the professor's quarters. Firstly it was bright, especially for being situated down in the dungeons. It wasn't dark, dank or damp. No cobwebs or spiders (not that he minded those), no eerie candelabras, no coffin, no vials of blood. It was light and airy, decorated in deep blues and greens and silvers. Not a black object in sight. It was kinda cosy, with a worn, but comfy-looking, midnight blue couch in front of a roaring fire. The walls were lined with bookshelves, showcasing thousands of books.

The portrait slammed suddenly, shocking the teen back to reality, cringing at the angry sound reverberating around the room. He relaxed, when he perceived no threat and brushed a hand wearily through his messy hair, once again berating himself mentally. He really needed to get this whole multiple personality thing under control. He could be perfectly fine, full of confidence and what not at one moment, and like the flick of a switch, he could be a bundle of nerves, cringing and flinching at every small move, every slight noise. It was wearing on him mentally, not to mention the shame that accompanied it.

Snape was entertained hugely by Harry's reaction .Obviously, like most other students, he expected a vampire's lair, and after all these years of cultivating the terrifying dungeon dwelling image, he honestly wasn't surprised or offended. Especially after encouraging many of the rumours abound about himself, as they aided him in his death eater role. None, not even the teachers ever ex[expected him to have such eclectic and tasteful pieces in his quarters.

But at Harry's cringe to the portrait closing, he was saddened once again. As he said before, it was going to be a long road for the young teen. A long hard road. Coaxing Harry to the settee beside him, he waited for the boy to calm himself as rested his crutch on the arm of the chair and settled tensely down.

Harry was nervous at being so close to the professor, and scooted over as far as he could on the small couch, until he rested himself against the arm of it. He could see Snape was saddened at his automatic response, but honestly he couldn't help it. He never liked being close to any adult males for fear of the power they held over him, and so he always kept his distance. It was an inherent fear, something he had no control over and something which he despised! He needed control, yearned for it. But he was ready, tense, to bolt if necessary, but attentive all the same.

Snape knew how Harry was feeling. He could see the stress he was under trying to control his instincts. But he needed to reintroduce him slowly to situations such as these. It was all in the process of healing. Nice and slow! Making himself as relaxed and non-threatening as possible, he summoned tea with a hint of chamomile to soothe both their nerves, and with a polite thank you from the child before him, he began.

"I am laying out some ground rules for your duration here. As I said previously, we'll keep your day as structured as possible, thus I shall be detailing your schedule also. Firstly, we'll cover some basic rules." He paused, noting the fear and trepidation appear on the child's face at that last statement.

A common trait amongst abused children was their quiet disrespect for any rules and regulations. From experience, though strict rules had been set for them, in the eyes of the abuser, the child always broke them, thus resulting in harsh punishment. On top of that the rules were always changing, and the child was not kept update, again receiving punishment. In their eyes they couldn't follow any rules, so what was the point. They took the consequences silently. Rules and punishment went hand in hand for these children. So Harry's uneasiness at his present situation was understandable, but with hope, he could wean the child off that misconception, with a set of specific, restricted rules, not liable to change.

"To start, you are to abide by your schedule at all times. This will help you keep your mind focused and help me locate you at all times in case of emergencies. Any changes needing to be made should be discussed with myself beforehand. Secondly, you are to attend every meals, no skiving as many of your medications must be taken alongside your meal. Next, you are forbidden to enter my private potions lab," here he gestured to the heavy duty door on the far side of the room, "unless accompanied by myself. There is a bell beside the door if you are in need of me. Just ring it once or call a house elf. Fourthly, you are never to be in any pain., whether physical or mental. I'm to be told immediately. And lastly, if you have any problems, no matter how insignificant you deem them, please come and speak to me before they fester and poison your mind. Clear?" he asked. At Harry's small nod of concurrence, finished this present issue. "There are also some everyday rules, such as generally keeping your room tidy and cleaning up after yourself and making sure your are presentable from day to day."

Taking a deep breath he continued, "Pressing forward to the next issue, and that is punishments."He ignored the shudder that ran through the teen at this and the dramatic draining of blood from his face. "These will consist of the likes of chopping extra potions ingredients, cleaning cauldrons, being grounded, etc., etc. I will emphasise, and keep doing so until we manage to convince you, I will never raise a hand to you, EVER. You will be punished for infractions against any rules. You will also be punished if you ever put your life in danger. I shall not tolerate that, no stupid Gryffindor shenanigans or heroics. Understood?" Another tentative nod of accordance and then to the last issue.

"As regard your schedule it shall proceed as such : after breakfast which is promptly at 8 am, you will spend two hours studying. After that you will have two hours free time in which we shall then break for lunch at 12. At 1 you have another two hours study session, then again two hours free time, in which we shall break for dinner at 5. That evening you have an hour just to talk about what you have suffered." At Harry's almost inaudible groan he delved forward "This is necessary and not up to negotiation. It can be either with me or a trained profession such as a mind healer, whichever you would prefer." But he knew that Harry would pick him, someone he was somewhat familiar with.

"You sir, please, if I have to," Harry whispered resignedly.

"Very well, after your session, the evening is yours to do what you will within the confines of the quarters. Fair enough?" Snape asked, trying to involve the boy. Give him some semblance of control.

In truth it was more than OK. Harry had more free time than he expected to receive. He thought he would be forced into spending his time on all manner of potion related tutorials. He could live with this for the most part. Except for the part of his 'therapy sessions' in the evenings. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, but definitely not something he looked forward to.

"Good, follow me and I shall show you to your room." Slowly and exaggerating all his movements for the cautious lad to follow, he made his way to the corridor off the main room, Harry trailing warily behind leaning heavily upon his crutch, relieved that their close proximity had ceased for the moment. Down the corridors their were three doors, two directly opposite each other and one to the end of the hall.

"My room." Snape gestured to the door on the left. "The main bathroom." He pointed to the door at the end of the hall. Harry turned to the remaining door so. . . "Your room" Snape finished his thoughts. "Go ahead" he nodded to the door.

Though he didn't show it, Snape was nervous. Sure he had dealt with abused and depressed kids before, but none to the extent of what Harry was. And indeed none he had to decorate and choose a wardrobe for. He hoped it would appeal to the child.

Harry slowly pushed the door open, not knowing what to expect. Immediately he was calmed by the arrangement. Perhaps the professor was into feng shui? (A/N could you imagine, lol). The room was decorated in warm colours, calming blues of different shades. The room just flowed together to achieve a serenity. It was huge, well by Harry's standards anyway, a four poster double bed, situated centrally against the back wall. Bookshelves lined the wall on one side, some filled, the other half waiting for him to fill them. A welcoming fire crackled in the fireplace and two comfy armchairs placed in front on a thick tasteful rug made for a cosy relaxing or reading area. In another corner was a huge solid desk and lamp, with his school books and wand stacked neatly on it completing the study area. The other wall held two doors. Harry looked at Snape questioningly, wondering what was behind those doors.

Snape understood immediately, " Bathroom," indicating to the first door, "And walk in wardrobe," pointing to the second.

Harry was smothered by his emotions once again. Never before, had he a room to call his own. Outfitted just with him in mind. His eyes glittered with unshed tears. "Mine?" he croaked disbelievingly to the professor.

Seeing the emotion well up in the boy, Snape assured the boy that it was indeed his and fended off any protests that it was too much and he didn't deserve it. Something he shot down straight away, the boys self-disgust. "No, Harry, this is no less than what you deserve. It is yours for however long you need it. Never doubt that. This is your haven, your sanctuary." For a child who never had much, he supposed, this was luxurious. He chided himself for worrying over the child's reaction. He wasn't spoilt like his godson, Draco was, no he would accept anything, as it would undoubtedly be better than what his relatives provided.

"Why don't we retire to the living room for a quiet evening. It has been a trying day for both of us, particularly you as you're still recovering. You can relax or read by the fire," he persuaded the teen kindly.

"That would be a good idea professor." Harry agreed, his voice cracking, laden with emotion.

Ten minutes later, both Harry and professor Snape were relaxing in the living room both with books in hand. Harry was sitting in an armchair, as close as he could be to the professor, without actually sitting in the same chair as him. Surprisingly, Harry was immersed in a very interesting book on "Curses, Light and Dark and the Reasons Why".The professor was seated were he was earlier on the settee transcribing from a very old potions journal, written in some obscure dialect. Both were comfortable in each other's presence at the moment. A very soothing and calming atmosphere had befallen, and for the first time, in a very long, long time Harry saw some hope for himself. Some light at the end of the tunnel, a future.

So focused on what he was reading, Harry didn't notice any change to his immediate surroundings until the professor moved from where he had settled himself on the couch, startling the teen slightly. Then he became aware of the soft 'pinging' noise, echoing throughout the room. He looked inquiringly at the professor as he moved to the portrait entrance. "Just the doorbell, Harry, Someone is outside the portrait." Without another word, the professor swung it open and froze, mouth agape in a very unsnapelike expression.

After a few minutes of total silence, Harry curiously twisted around the side of his chair to see what the lack of commotion was. Needless to say he was shocked at the Professors frozen stature. Looking past the professor he immediately saw why. Lounging casually in the doorway, quite relaxed, was a young girl, about Harry's own age. He fowned in puzzlement. He didn't think there were any other students here. She was of average height, but slender and willowy. She had the figure of an athlete, with long dirty blond hair, sea green eyes with a mischievous glint lurking in them and a vaguely familiar smirk on her face.

He couldn't quite place who she reminded him of until, and here he nearly toppled of his chair head of heels, looking straight at the professor and with a slight toss of her head, she greeted him, "How are ya, Da?

**Adalinda – means noble serpent**

**Please please pretty please review! :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N – OK guys, I've had this chappy written for agggggeeessss but never got the time to type it up. The Easter hols caught up with me and I decided to take a truly undeserved break, lol and do absolutely nothing. So I'm really really really sorry for the delay and unfortunately (more bad news) there may be more upcoming delays as I've a very busy project coming to a head. Now, with regards to the actual chapter, I had awful trouble with contradictions with my time line and dead people all of a sudden being alive and such. If any such discrepancies are noticed, please let me know. Thanks and enjoy!! ~ silvermoonfae**

**Mourning and Determination**

'Hold up a second! Da? The former greasy bat of the dungeons has another shocker to amaze us all? As well as his miraculous reformation, he has a daughter. Merlin, I'm going to faint!' However many times he told himself that the truth was staring at him, straight in the face, his brain just wouldn't process it. 'Da? Snape? Daughter? What! I think I'm going into shock!' Harry thought. Then he glanced over at Snape who was staring aimlessly at her, quite speechless. 'I think HE'S going into shock.' Harry mentally rolled his eyes. ' Way to spring this on your poor old father.' he thought at the girl. He guessed he was the one to proceed with the formalities as Snape was temporarily (he hoped) incapacitated. Strangely enough, he felt quite comfortable around her. She emanated a distinct aura of safety, warmth and knowledge. Like she was peering straight into his soul, not an intruder, but more like an aid in sadness and insecurity that surrounded him, knowing what he had been through without ever having to tell her. It was quite unexpected from the daughter of formidable Potions Professor who never indulged in such things as emotions until recently.

Slowly drawing himself upright, making use of the many masks he had developed in light of his 'situation' at his relatives, he wore an easy smile and languidly strolled to the door, where she was still leaning casually. Holding out his hand, pleasant smile still apparent, without a single stutter, flinch or wince, he introduced himself. "Ah, please forgive your, em, father. I dare say he has gone into shock. My name is Harry Potter," he paused for the usual flicker of the eyes to his scar, maybe a gasp or even a scream if he was unlucky. However, he was faintly surprised, yet pleased when she just gripped his hand firmly, smiling warmly. "Please, have a seat while the 'dungeon bat' comes 'round," he invited with an elegant gesture of his hand.

Her eyes sparkled in undisguised mirth. "S'a pleasure to meet ya, Harry. I'm Clíona and as yeh already figured out, this here" she paused slyly "dungeon bat, is me da." She settled into the chair opposite Harry, glancing at her father, who still remained frozen, staring dazzedly at the spot she had just vacated.

"You're not from around here then?" Harry asked. Still a bit overwhelmed by his own easy acceptance of this, forgive the contradiction, but familiar stranger.

"Yeh got that righ' in one. I'm from just across the water, from Ireland. Me ma passed recently," her eyes lost their mischevious sparkle and deadened with the mention of her mum, "and so I was sent here, to me da." She laughed pleasantly, like tinkling bells and as quickly as the sorrow had descended it lifted with her laughter, "And well, as yeh probably guessed, he hasn't seen me in a long, long time." Simultaneously they turned towards and laughed at his still immobile stature.

Snape couldn't comprehend that HIS daughter, whom he hadn't seen in almost 15 years, his beautiful little girl had returned. He vaguely listened to Harry and his daughter's easy camaraderie, but not really absorbing what was being said. All that was running through his head was, 'No. She couldn't be here. This was a mistake. She was in danger. She went back to her mother's homeland to keep her safe. No!' and variations of such, repeating over and over, like a broken record. What was he going to do? Was his wife here too? Why was she here? The sound of laughter broke his focused, single-minded thoughts and he realised that he had been stupidly staring absently at empty wall.

Taking a deep breath, closing his eyes and gathering his emotions, he turned to face his daughter, composed and ready for anything, or so he thought. He didn't know what to expect. Fear and worry inevitable bled through his veins, his heart thumping wildly. To say he was shocked to see Harry so comfortable with another so soon after his trauma, particularly his daughter, was an understatement. Harry had been skittish and fearful of everything after his ordeal. Now, here he was , conversing quite casually with his daughter or more so, a stranger at that. He shook his head, trying to clear his muddled thoughts, worried that he had somehow fallen into an alternative universe, like the muggle fairytale, Alice in Wonderland. Perhaps he had just simply been knocked unconscious.

Harry noticed Snape first, rousing from his almost comatose state. Immediately, a change could be perceived about him, and he became nervous and distressed in light of his audience. Standing up quickly, hands fidgeting, expression tense and strained, posture ready for flight he stuttered "Ah sir, em, I thi – think I should let Clíona explain." and without a second glance he raced out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar, disappearing from sight. He was definitely in flight mode.

Snape stared after the boy in weary sadness, hoping he could do right by him. But every so often he would think the task almost insurmountable. Curiously he also caught Clíona staring after him, sorrow marking her young face, a knowing look evident in her eyes. Snape arched a delicate eyebrow in suspicion and concern. She knew something, but he knew Harry wouldn't have told her anything yet. 'Interesting' he thought and gracefully he lowered himself into the chair gazing steadily at his daughter contemplating his next move. For the first time in his life, he came up with nothing. Words escaped him, thoughts fled to the back recesses of his brain. He was blank. His daughter had turned up, literally, on his doorstep, no explanation and completely alone. Where was her mother? His wife? His beloved Dearbháil? He sighed heavily, head in hands in an unnatural admittance of weariness breaking his mask.

"Clíona -" his voice caught in the back of his throat with emotion. Again he sighed sadly and lifted his head slightly to stare into his daughter's sweet face. He noticed that she was the image of her mother, from the dirty blond hair to the slight quirk to her lips. However, he could see elements of himself creeping in as she matured. Her slender, elegant hands, delicately folded on her knee and her tall, athletic (yes, Snape is athletic under those billowing robes) build. His eyes, those dark, pitch black, eyes held his gaze defiantly, holding a warmth that was only starting to reappear in his own. However, they now lacked the mischievous sparkle, reminiscent of her mother, of when she first arrive. She looked vaguely bewildered if still defiant at her situation, as if everything was moving in fast forward.

He started again and in view of recent events he decided to forgo his usual snarkiness with his daughter. "Clíona, Merlin, what are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Ireland with your mother. Where is she?" he glanced about, as if expecting her to appear at any moment now.

"Da -" her own voice cracked at the disuse of the unfamiliar word, "Oh da!" She broke down. She flung herself at Snape,hanging onto his neck for dear life, sobbing endlessly. Snape sat stiffly, unused to such emotional situations, but then he let instinct come forth and embraced his heartbroken child, muttering nonsensical reassurances. Pain shone around her very pain, almost physically manifesting itself, it was so deep. "Da, we were supposed to be safe there. No one knew, righ' ? But, oh god, she's gone. Ma's gone!" she wailed burrowing herself into his billowing robes.

Snape froze, yet again. A sharp resounding 'No!' echoed through his skull. 'Impossible! No one knew. No one!' But the pain the child bore told a different story. Truth! 'Oh Merlin'. He held onto his daughter, hurting in their shared sorrow. His love gone forever, their last meeting, their last embrace was over 15 years ago. Now he would never see her again. He clenched his eyes shut in an uncharacteristic show of pain. A lone tear trickled from beneath his dark lashes, travelling down his gently creased faced, a journey of pain and sorrow, embraced in that one pearly tear.

They sat like that for God knows how long. Both calming and comforting the other in their shared pain. Both comfortable in their intimacy, despite their prolonged separation as father and daughter. When the tears dissipated and both were quietly lost in their thoughts of their dear one's loss, sharing in the deep soul-binding sorrow that remained, Snape asked a simple question. "How?"

"Two months ago" she began quietly, leaning into the reassuring touch, as Snape unconsciously carded his fingers through her long, silky hair. The colour was of her mothers but the texture, definitely of her fathers, when it was clean. "I was just finished school and was walkin' back with me mates. We were joking and messing like nothin' was wrong, as far as we were concerned, nothing was. " Her eyes focused distantly into the past, at the traumatic scene mere months ago. "We had just turned off into the fields to cut across the glosha to my place, a short cut if ya will." She closed her eyes, for a minute, composing herself. "We came into view of the house and I saw 'it' hanging over the roof, eerily mocking me from the sky above." There was no need for any explanation for what 'it' was. He knew! "I sent me mates home, making up some silly excuse I cant remember now, as they were muggles themselves and just stood there frozen in panic. I knew no one who could help me. I didn't know of any other wizards or witches around. I was alone. There really was only one option left and so I entered slowly and cautiously through the wreck of a front door. I dreaded what I would find, but hoped against fate itself that I was mistaken, that it was all a horrible dream or something." Pain laced her voice as she persevered. "A million different scenarios flitted through my head in about a second, none of which I knew to be true. Deep down I knew what I would find." She paused again and Snape didn't press. He couldn't imagine how hard it was for her to relive that horrible memory. She would tell it at her own pace. The retelling was obviously just as painful as the actual day the tragedy occurred. His heart clenched painfully with profound sadness for his late wife and the pain his daughter was in. Life just wasn't fair.

The tears slowly began again, but she didn't seem to notice lost in her memory. "I went inside, straight into the livin' room when I saw her. She looked peaceful, her eyes wide, but in acceptance of her fate. Ma...." her voice choked with suppressed emotion, "I knew what had happened. Ma taught me all I needed to know and she taught me well. The lingering effects of the Avada Kedavra were obvious. She bore no other injuries and I was just grateful she hadn't suffered." Finally she looked him straight in the eyes, tears still clinging like little jewels from her long lashes. "But I knew all 'bout YOU of course." Putting emphasis on the 'YOU' , so not only as him being her father but also perhaps his less savoury occupation. He wouldn't elaborate. If she knew, she knew, therefore no need to confirm nor deny. She was still here, wasn't she? "I knew I had me da still living and where he worked and such. Me ma would never let me forget and so I made my ways her with what little I have. And so that brings us to now I suppose," she quietly concluded and she slumped against him in emotional exhaustion. His mind still couldn't process all the facts. His daughter was here, his beloved wife Dearbháil was gone forever. He sighed again with weariness.

"Child, I'm so sorry I had to leave you to all that. Never doubt that I love you for I do with all my heart. But you would have been in even more danger than if I had stayed with you," he was heartfelt and sincere and yes, emotional. "That's why I sent you to stay in your mother's homeland. Honestly I'm at a loss of what to do Clíona, I have failed you and your mother badly. Dearbháil – Dearbháil is gone now. But know this, I will never, NEVER, leave you again!" he unequivocally reassured the distraught girl. His obsidian eyes sparkled suspiciously at the end of his passionate declaration.

Finally the stern rein Snape had on his emotions crumbled as his daughter flung herself into his arms, a reunion for the first time in over ten years.

HPHPHP

Slowly and quietly he closed the door from where he was eavesdropping guiltily. A small smile graced his lips. But his emerald eyes sparkled with unshed tears and shone with unbridled sorrow. A sorrow so deep and soul shattering, a world heavy weariness, which had temporarily been relieved, had once again descended upon the thin, wiry frame of the teen.

He rejoiced with Snape for his love for his daughter and their reunion and mourned with him, the loss of his beloved. The love, even from Snape was palpable within the room, and it reminded once again, that it would be something he would never experience. Love, a parents love, a hug, comfort and praise and a sense of belonging within the family unit. Something which was lost to him.

Sighing sadly, he tip toed sneakily to his room and settled in for a night of disturbed, nightmare infested sleep.

HPHPHP

Snape settled into his favourite chair in front of the fire, after showing Clíona to the guest room and checking on Harry who was asleep, if restlessly. He nursed a glass of Irish Whiskey that Dearbháil had given him just before she had left. It was kept for special occasions and what better way to remember her than to savour it, staring absently into the heart of the fire. He dispelled all the tension and stress that had built up these pasta few days in one long expelled breath. In a rare unguarded moment, he slumped down, head in his hands in despair, letting go of his emotions and panicking. What was he going to do now? The only light in the room was the fire burning merrily in contrast to his sombre mood and so casting shadows across his defeated form, giving new life to his despair and sorrow. Life for Snape had been just one continuous stream of bad luck and tragedy's. Surely he was due some good now?

And so he sat there, immersed in his memories both good and bad. Meeting Dearbháil, their wedding, the birth of Clíona and their departure to Ireland. Dearbháil O' Sullivan, his lifesaver, after he had sunk and thoroughly wallowed in the dark pit of despair, when Lily Potter, his best friend and hers, was killed. She was the sunshine to his darkness, lighting up his whole world with her quirky Irish accent and mischievous twinkle shining in her eye and her sheer determination and stubbornness to get through to him. She reminded him that Lily would have wanted them to continue with their lives, regardless and not mourn overly so for life still went on. Their souls had bonded when they had first met, and Lily was chuffed with both of them, for she regarded herself the one to set them up. It was all a bed of roses until Lily's death but Dearbháil and his little girl had pulled him from the darkness.

Then the image of their wedding flashed by his mind's eye. She looked stunning in a white simple dress, that gave her the ethereal appearance of some Irish mythical fairy. Her hair tumbled gracefully in blond locks down her back, a single white Lily woven into her tresses in tribute to her best friend and maid of honour (they were as close as twins), as she twirled around, making her dress fan out daintily, as her laugh chimed through the crisp cool Irish air, a single purple rose in her hand. Simple elegance and beauty, the love of his life.

He mourned her desperately. Never again would he thread his fingers through her silky blond locks. Never again would he hear her laugh, like sweet chimes tinkling. Never again would he feel how her body melded perfectly against his, made for each other. Never again would he see the love in her eyes. Never again!

He sat there until dawn broke through the ominous dark clouds, a slither of light at first, growing and growing, dispersing the baleful clouds until the fiery sun shone in all its glory, bringing along its rays, hope. As it bathed his face in the warmth of a fresh sun, he felt the hope swell within him and determination glinted sharply in his black opal eyes. "For you, Dearbháil and Lily. I'll do right by my daughter and Harry. We. Will. Survive. And. Live!" he whispered solemnly and fiercely to the empty room. He closed his eyes in promise and lifted his head slightly as a slight breeze appeared to swirl around him. He must have been more entranced by his memories than he previously thought, for he could almost feel the soft caress of his wife's delicate hands smoothing his hair back like she used to do and the sweet tinkle of her laugh. He could even smell the jasmine scent that Lily favoured and her powerful aura. His eyes snapped open and immediately it all dispersed. However the lingering tingle of magic pervaded the air and he knew that they truly had heard his promise. He had enough wallowing, and clearly those beyond had enough of his wallowing too. Tomorrow was enough time to begin life afresh. For now he would see if he could catch a couple of hours sleep before it got too late in the morning.

On his way to his room, his eyes locked on the dresser in the corner of the room, virtually untouched by the years it had stood their silently, waiting for him to open it, waiting for this day. He strode purposefully and defiantly to it and with a flick of his wand unlocked it. Opening the top drawer he pulled out three elegant silver frames embossed with gold swirls. For a moment he just stared sadly at them, a small smile gracing his lips. Before placing each on the mantle piece above the fire carefully. With one last fond glance at them, he strode away to sleep peacefully for the first time in years.

In the silent room, where the shadows flickered, if one was to gaze upon the mantle piece, one would see three new additions gracing it, each in a place of pride, the occupants waving merrily in the dim light.

The first frame consisted of Snape and Dearbháil on their wedding day. Both were smiling joyfully and Snape looked like a different man without his customary scowl or menacing air. There was no loathing or hate about him at all. This man was happy and he had all he could ever want, and more, right beside him. He twirled her around in his arms, gazing adoringly into each others eyes, totally engrossed in the other. It reminded one of new beginnings.

The next one featured a beaming Snape and Dearbháil, with a little girl in her arms and Snape content with his hand around his wife's shoulders. Clearly it was the happiest moment in the couple's lives.

The last one showed a beaming women with striking, fiery red hair and emerald eyes, shining like green jewels. Snape was looking adoringly at the small baby boy in her arms, with a tuft of messy hair atop his head and bright emerald eyes like his mother. Dearbháil also beamed at the mother and child with her own baby girl in her arms. One could tell that the boy was just slightly older than the little girl. The bond of friendship between the three adults shone, even from this mere photograph. In all it was the contentment evident in this family which drew the eye.

And so, these three pictures which hadn't seen the light of day for a very, very long time, now sat proudly on display, for all to see, the owner, not seeing the need to hide the painful memories any longer.

**Glosha – old Irish for a small stream in the country**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N – so yet again I present to you another chapter. In one particular review I got it was mentioned that my Snape was too nice and Harry too scared and such. I have meant to point out that this is an AU fic and definitely characters are just not going to fit in with canon. So if you are holding out for that I apologise but it ain't going to happen. So I apologise to the reader of this particular review who held out for this before abandoning it and informing me of my lapse. Sorry! Enjoy. ~silvermoonfae**

**Disclaimer – I do not own anything remotely related to the fantastic world of J.K Rowling!**

**Reassurances and Emotions**

The next morning, Harry awoke groggily after a restless sleep and was slightly confused. It took a few moments for his brain to warm up and get geared up for the day and then another few moments before last nights events rushed back into focus. 'Ah! Snape, daughter, Clíona!' Yes, it all came back to him now. Sadly, however, their poignant reunion also came to the forefront of his mind, something he never had and never would experience. A slight frown creased his forehead as he remembered Snape's previous assurances to help him. What would happen now? Would he have time for him now his daughter was back on the scene? Would he be chucked out? A freak? A burden? These worries flitted in and out of his confused and soggy brain (still having not woken up properly) as he proceeded with his morning necessities. Numerous different scenarios played out in his mind, none of them boding well for him.

Harry being the abused and neglected child he was needed constant reassurance and time alone with his grumpy, paranoid brain at this hour of the morning was not helping him in any way, shape or form. He worked himself into such a fluster he never noticed the small cracks developing in the walls, like a creeping vine, as his magic responded to his emotions. The air became heavy and tense and the natural sunlight dimmed, bringing the room into a monochrome darkness. Small, almost unnoticeable ice crystals began to form on the ceiling and the window sills. He threw himself back on top of the bed to calm down, taking deep breaths, inhaling the smell of his bed covers.

Again, he failed to observe his surroundings and didn't notice Snape peeping in the door, like a dark voluminous ghost, silent and frowning at the cracks in the walls, ice and heavy atmosphere. He resolved to let Harry sort himself out, and headed to breakfast, knowing Harry would be soon after him.

After ten minutes, Harry had calmed down sufficiently, and mustering up his Gryffindor courage and Slytherin cunning, he strode purposefully and quietly to the kitchen, mask already donned. However, his mask wavered and he hesitated in the doorway at the scene before him. Snape and his daughter were obviously, also early risers and looked like a typical family enjoying their breakfast together. Again, the previous night came to the forefront of his mind and his doubts returned tenfold. He didn't wish to intrude and so quietly he tried to back out the door and sneak back into his room.

But years of spying had honed Snape's abilities of perception to perfection and Harry's own magic betrayed him, as the heavy, depressed aura that was evident in his room, followed him into the kitchen, He knew Clíona also was aware of the shift as she tensed slightly at the overwhelming depressive nature of it. He sensed Harry's hesitation and heard as he tried to sneak back out without any disturbance. Clearing his throat, as if he had just noticed the retreating boy, he called softly, "Ah Harry, you're just in time to join us for breakfast." and he gestured to the empty space across from him and beside Clíona.

Harry groaned inwardly, caught! Caught by Snape's ever present snooping abilities that also come in handy for honing in on wayward, trouble making students. Deep down he knew it was a simple matter of just joining them for breakfast. There was no ulterior motives or anything, and it wasn't like he was in trouble, was it? But he just couldn't help thinking exactly that, or about the many times he had been coaxed to the table by his relatives, before being severely punished for even thinking of eating with normal human beings. He shivered in remembrance. Hesitantly and decidedly nervous, Harry shuffled over beside Clíona, and sat on the edge of his seat, grabbing a slice of toast, muscles tense and strained and just calling out for him to flee.

Severus was worried about Harry. His demeanour screamed at him to both 'help him' and leave him be'. Harry was confused and now with Clíona's addition to the equation, it could either be a lifesaver for the boy or be a major set back for him. They seemed to get on just famously the previous night. Perhaps it was too much to hope that he was not as damaged as he previously thought from his relation's treatment of him and that he was healing well. He ran his hand through his hair wearily as he often did, when he was at a loss for an explanation.

"Harry? Harry, look at me child." he ordered softly so as not to startle him any more than he was already. Didn't work! Harry flinched and raised his frightened green eyes to Severus'. Harry didn't notice Clíona watching the proceedings sadly, a sorrowful look haunting her own eyes, but Severus did and he wondered how much she actually knew. But back to the matter at hand.

"Harry, what's the matter?" he asked gently.

"Nothing!" Harry whispered, his voice almost lost across the small distance from one side of the table to the other.

"Child, look around you. Your magic is responding to your emotions." Harry looked around with wild eye's as cracks began to form and a glass or two shattered and more ice creeped up the walls.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry sir. Really, I didn't mean it to happen. Please, you have to believe me" Harry gushed, panicked and frightened.

A small tear slipped out of the corner of Clíona's eye and she stood shakily. "I'm just going to finish me unpacking before anything else." She excused herself and hurriedly slipped off to her room.

"Hush, child. It's no matter. I just pointed it out to you to show you that indeed, there is obviously something quite the matter with you. Come on Harry, Clíona's gone. Please, I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong." he prodded.

Harry remained silent for a bit, staring at his interlocked fingers, perched precariously on the edge of his seat, head bowed. And then a small, shaky voice floated across the table to him.

"You're going to send me away now, aren't you sir?"

Silence again. But this time Snape was frozen in shock. Where had this come from?

"It's OK sir, I quite understand. I'll just go and pac -"

"No! Merlin Harry. I've no intention of sending you away, unless you're not comfortable here with me and Clíona." He almost shouted his denial of such a thing, despite his knowledge of Harry's reaction to even slightly raised voices.

And of course, Harry jumped a mile off his chair, sending it crashing across the room, and landing hard on the stone floor. Snape was up, like a shot, and around the other side of the table in the blink of an eye, helping Harry to his feet, eyeing him sadly as he instinctively pulled back before accepting his help ashamedly and guiding him to the settee in the living room before settling beside him, himself. Again, Harry scooted as far away as possible from the other presence beside him, but again it seemed like a reflex action and not intentional. Snape did nothing to close the gap, as he wanted Harry to feel as comfortable and safe as possible. He just watched carefully as he took his own deep breaths, calming himself down.

"Pray child, how did you come to such an absurd conclusion." he asked exasperatedly.

Harry fidgeted again, shuffling his feet and scratching his wrists, making them turn slightly red with irritation. Snape narrowed his eyes and honed in on Harry's hands. This wasn't good. The boy wasn't even aware of what he was doing. This was how it commonly started, innocent scratching or absently picking away at the skin in anxiety or stressful situations. Then consciously doing so and so on and so forth, moving up the scale, until they did some serious damage with their self-harm. He had seen it many times with his Snakes. How Harry managed to avoid his Snake Pit at sorting was beyond him, but he was essentially one of his lost snakes. He would have to address this particular issue soon, but first he needed to deal with the present problem of Harry's obscure and illogical reasoning.

Slowly, making sure Harry was aware of his every slow and deliberate movements, he lay a potion stained hand a top of Harry's own, effectively refraining him from doing more superficial damage. Harry seemed surprised at the damage he had done subconsciously to his wrist but dismissed it from hand. The heavy silence still pervaded the dungeon living room as Harry again declined to answer.

"Harry?" Snape compelled.

Harry peeked from beneath his scraggly fringe, which forever resided in front of his eyes. Finally his small voice rang through the living room, despite how quiet he was being.

"Well, with your daughter here now, I – I would just complicate things and get in the way. I don't want to be a burden and I fully understa -"

"Harry!" Snape interrupted softly. "Harry, child, I have no intention whatsoever to send you away. Yes my daughter is here, but that changes nothing, absolutely nothing, except perhaps the presence of another person would be residing here. I have time for both of you and I still fully intend to help you even if you're not biologically mine, I'm still your guardian for as long as you want me to be." he tried to impress upon Harry.

Harry perked up slightly upon hearing that and seeing the unashamed truth in Snape's eyes. 'Perhaps this could work.' he thought. 'He hasn't sent me away yet and he seems sincere, maybe, just maybe it would.' He still had small doubts niggling in the back of his mind, but that was to be expected.

Snape perceived the slight change in air pressure. It was lighter, happier and a content atmosphere now. Startled slightly, he saw his words begin to sink in and Harry began to believe what the potions master was telling him, finally and so, again, his magic responded to his emotions. The heavy, depressive air that was evident just moments ago had all but disappeared, leaving no trace of it ever really occurring. The cracks began to disappear, ice began to melt and the shattered glass began to repair. Even a small, warm ray of sunshine managed to light the room, which was an amazing feat in itself, considering that they were in the dungeons. Harry's power's were strong for one so young and needed to be assessed immediately to determine his strength and control over his magic. However, preparations were in order first, before they could ever even begin.

Relieved that he had finally managed to disabuse Harry of his ridiculous notions, he began planning the preparations for the upcoming assessments and knew a trip to Diagon Alley was in order. And so he continued in a lighter tone, "How about you go and get ready and we'll make a trip to Diagon Alley. I have need for some materials and you and Clíona can get your school things for this year." He quirked his lips in the usual fashion that meant he was smiling. Particularly at Harry's reaction and the happy shine that had returned to his eyes at the suggestion.

"Yes sir, thank you sir." He was almost giddy with excitement. The first real emotion he had seen from the child since he had retrieved him from his relation's 'tender loving' care, even if it was tempered a bit as he wasn't used to his emotions being discernible. It warmed him slightly. They were making progress, even if it was slow. It was still progress.

HPHPHP

After Harry had left in a much better mood than he had come in with, Snape ordered a cup of tea with a touch of a calming draft in from his personal house elf, Tizzy. Then he slumped further into the couch, allowing the soft cushions to envelop him, hoping that they would swallow him totally for just a few moments, just a few moments of nothingness where he didn't have to deal with the highly abused child. It was fraying on his nerves, he didn't know if he could deal with the pain the child was suffering. And yet he was but an observer, and Harry was still soldiering on, despite all his hardships. Merlin above, but the lad was strong. He was weary, but relieved that the incident had been prevented from escalating. To see the child like this , without his usual mask, small and hurt and vulnerable. It was just painful and wearing.

He felt a delicate, warm hand on his shoulder offering solace and comfort and surprisingly he felt much better. He looked up into the sad, liquid black eye's of his daughter, so like his own and yet not. A sorrowful smile graced her lips and she settled down comfortably nestled into her father's side.

"How is he?" she asked quietly, keeping the sombre mood that prevailed.

Snape sighed, "He's fine for now. I've managed to reassure him that his fantastical reasoning's were completely illogical and void of even a grain of truth. We shall be heading into Diagon Alley later however, so hopefully all will be forgotten in the light of other things." At her questioning look, he elaborated, "Diagon Alley is the main Wizarding shopping district."

She nodded as if she had known all along the woes of his ward. Which then reminded him of the previous night, and the knowing look in her eyes. He turned to stare directly into his child's eyes, slightly confused and wary, trying to detect any lie that may be uttered. "How much do you know?" he asked her suspiciously.

She drew in a sharp breath at his question and paled before turning away from her father's questioning gaze. There was no need to elaborate. She knew. "Everything," she whispered "and more!" She looked slightly guilty, as if she had been caught peeking.

Snape was shocked once again and slightly hurt at the first reasoning that came to his mind. "He told -"

"No!" she interrupted, "He told me nothing. Absolutely nothing. He doesn't know that I know anything and no I've never met him previously to have known, before you ask."

"Then how?" he inquired.

She drew in a deep breath. It was going to come out sooner or later, so she might as well tell him now. She turned to face him again, the honest truth shining from her eyes, the sincerity in the way she chewed her bottom lip. "Empathy. I can sense feelings, emotions, even get flashes of past emotions and such. When I first saw him, he reeked of hurt and abuse. His façade didn't fool me. I knew. I've met others before in the same situation as him and I was able to manipulate or broadcast I suppose you could say, my own emotions to make him feel comfortable around me." she finished.

Snape was once again stumped. He couldn't deal with anymore shocks pouncing upon him in his old age. Then realisation lit his face. "Ah so like you did earlier for me. That's why I felt at ease earlier when you entered the room."

She nodded. "There's more, however. I was trained young. Me ma, recognised it almost immediately. And so I learnt to recognise other sympathetic magics, compatible to my own. We innately acknowledge each other, our magic does. This doesn't happen often. In fact it is extremely rare. But it can only mean one thing. Harry is also an empath, a very strong and untrained one, which is why he also reacts to me so strongly. But Harry doesn't know it himself and possibly just presumed he was very perceptive of other's emotions. I could feel it this mornin' too. He was manipulating on a broad scale, the atmosphere around him. That's why I had to excuse myself. I tried to counter it, but he just overrode me. He was too strong and I would of broke down under the depressive environment." she choked out the last, almost reduced to tears again.

He comforted her absently, whilst reasserting to himself that he was much too old for surprises like these. However it explained a lot about this morning and how he seemed particularly in tune with others emotions. And also why he was so prone to anger and susceptible to his own emotions. A lot was falling into place with this revelation, like a puzzle finally coming together. "I suppose it makes sense. This is just another talent to add to his seemingly growing list. However, I think we should keep this under wraps, just for the moment." he cautioned.

"I agree. I've been keeping this secret for as long as I can remember now and I feel no need to change that now,"she said emphatically.

He drained the last of his cold tea and made to stand. So much was running through his brain, he was afraid it was going into overload and fry itself. "Perhaps you should go and get ready." he glanced at her, still in her green pyjama's, fluffy blue slippers on her feet, hair still tousled from bed. It was times like these she reminded him of her mother. She liked to stay in her pyjama's for as long as possible, until Severus finally managed to persuade her to get dressed. The usually prim and proper Snape just couldn't help but indulge her a bit. He softened a bit when she pouted as if it were such an undesirable idea. " _**A stóirín,**_ come now." he chided playfully, using her baby Irish nickname. " Go talk to Harry for a bit when your ready. Say nothing of the empathy and I shall explain it to him tomorrow. I have a meeting with the headmaster now, and I shouldn't be long."

Impulsively, he pulled his daughter in for a quick hug when she jumped up. She squealed at the unexpected assault and giggled as he kissed her silky locks. "See ya later, da" and with that she flashed him a cheeky smile and sprinted down the hall.

Snape smiled at his daughter's antics. Definitely her mother's child. With his trademark billowing robes and scowl in place he headed off to meet the manipulative old coot.

_**A stóirín – my darling/my little treasure. (pronounced : Ah store – een)**_

HPHPHP

Snape sat in the headmaster's office, nursing yet another cup of tea and copious amounts of lemon drops, lining his pockets. The headmaster sat across from him, his own cup in hand, blue eye's twinkling knowingly.

'Damn meddling coot knows everything." he thought. He knew that as soon as he officially informed the headmaster of his daughter's return, he would have designs for her and her place in the war, the intrusive fool.

"Ah my boy. How is your dear daughter today. I'm sorry to say I must have missed her precipitous arrival" the old man began.

"Indeed headmaster, I came to inform you that my daughter has come and will be residing with me permanently and joining the school next term." he stated impassively.

"Fine, fine, there are no problems with that I assure you." he waved his hand dismissively. "And how is Harry handling this?" he seemed concerned and he should be but Severus wasn't sure there wasn't other reasons for his concern. He would just have to wait and see.

"Quite well actually, despite one particular issue which has now been resolved, there have been no other incidents." Snape intoned. The twinkle was in overdrive again with this news and he wondered why.

"Good, good. Now tell me, where is your delightful wife. Surely your daughter did not come alone?"

Instantly, Snape's demeanour sagged in upon himself and he lifted his haunted eyes to the headmaster's clear blue ones. Perhaps he wasn't as all knowing as he thought. "Unfortunately, she was killed in a death eater attack, hence the reason I now have reunited with my daughter." Snape spoke emotionlessly. He was glad to see that the twinkling dimmed immediately upon hearing such grave news and deep sorrow etched the headmaster's lined face. He liked to think he was genuinely upset for Dearbháil had touched everyone she had ever known and it was hard to let her go.

"My dear, dear boy. I'm so sorry. She was a wonderful person. A lot like Lily, in her own way. If there is anything I can do to help. Anything at all. Lemon drop? I find they ease the hearts pains and sort out all sorts of problems." he offered.

With a small resigned sigh, he accepted yet again another Lemon drop to add to his growing collection in his pocket.

"I assure you headmaster, I have mourned my dear wife. However she would not have wanted us to wallow in her death. She was full of life and wanted everyone else to live life to the fullest. Lives life for every moment, every second of every day. I'm determined to live for my daughter and Harry.." the headmasters eye's began twinkling madly at his impassioned speech, particularly when he included Harry as well as his daughter, "..and I now remember her in the prime of her life and all the good times we had together."

"That's good to hear, my boy, and I'm glad you've adopted such a mature and positive outlook on this and are not dwelling upon revenge." Snape smirked inwardly at this for he indeed planned upon revenge, but in typical Slytherin fashion, he wasn't about to reveal his plans. "Now I know you have plans for this evening, so off you pop and don't keep the children waiting." he shooed.

As Snape was ushered out in what was clearly a dismissal, his last thoughts were of Barmy old coots.

HPHPHP

Harry heard a polite knock on the door as he just lay back on his bed, intending to get a start on his homework readings, particularly in potions, now that Snape was his guardian.

"Come in," he called softly and soon after a small, blond head peeked around the edge of the door, eyes screwed firmly shut, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Are ya decent?" she asked.

Harry laughed. Somehow, even though he barely knew her for a day, she made him feel at ease, like none other's could, not even his best mates. "Well, I wouldn't have invited you in if I wasn't now, would I?"

She finally gave into her amusement and a sweet tinkling sound filled the room. "Ah yeh never now now, do ya?." And, making herself at home in his room, she plopped herself down beside Harry on the bed.

"So Harry, what's Hogwarts like?" she inquired. "I know absolutely nothing about the world I've just resigned meself to here."

Harry laughed again and Clíona felt a warm bubble of satisfaction well within here. It made her happy to see Harry so carefree. She could tell it was a rare occurrence for him to indulge in.

"Well Hogwarts, it's home for me. So you'll get a pretty one sided account. I love it here, the whole magic in the air, all the portraits, the ghosts, even the professors. And the whole hustle and bustle of life here." he declared passionately. "I really am the wrong person to tell you about it." Then he looked like an epiphany just smacked him upside down and right ways up again. His eyes widened and he let of a soft "oh". She could literally see the light bulb flash over his head. "Hang on a minute -" And he jumped of the bed and raced over to his trunk.

Old rag like clothes, broken quills, even stuff that looked like weird sweets were thrown in and out of his trunk as he searched thoroughly for something. Finally after some more rooting around, he pulled out a book and dusted it off. It looked like it had never been open before and with a triumphant smile, he presented it to Clíona.

She looked at the cover and saw 'Hogwarts : A History' embossed there in neat little gold writing. 'Well this could prove interesting,' she thought.

"My best friend, and one of the smartest witches in our year, Hermione, swears by this book. It's self updating so it should have everything you need to know in it and up to date." Harry stated proudly.

Clíona grinned as she took off some of the original packaging that the book had been wrapped in. "Looks to me like it hasn't seen the light of day in years, let alone been read regularly."

Harry smiled sheepishly, "Well that could be true. I never did read the book, particularly with Hermione able to quote the entire thing and page numbers if needed. So you can keep it for an indefinite amount of time, no interest."

"Thanks a million, Harry. I'll have it read by tonight." He raised an eyebrow in amusement at her and this time it was Clíona's turn to grin sheepishly. "I'm a bit of a bookworm meself, but the more interesting kind, not the schoolbook kind."

"Hey, you might just balance Hermione out. You'll probably get on with each other like a house on fire and I'm sure she'd only be delighted to have a girly presence instead of us two lads the whole time."

She just smiled, before they were both drawn into a discussion on, well nothing really. Harry felt great talking to someone with no expectations of him, no pushing him about his feelings or anything. Just someone he could get on with and felt comfortable with. Their conversations varied wildly from the political views to the fantastical aspects of the Wizarding world here. Both were comfortable in the other's presence and so when Snape called, they both jumped a couple of feet, so lost in their conversation they were, on what made a better pet. Their pets were getting more and more exotic and absurd by the minute, before ending with Clíona shouting, "Nah ah, a leprechaun would make a much better pet, than a flying pig, yeh plonker." Harry just roared out laughing, rolling off the bed in the process. Snape called a second time and they both decided not to push it. With a sly grin and a wink, Clíona shot up and raced out the door, a challenging "Last one there is a rotten egg!" hanging behind her.

Harry smiled a genuine smile of happiness, some of the lingering hurt having been chased away. Bit by bit he was healing, and Clíona helped immeasurably. He raced after her, knowing he wouldn't catch up at this rate, but nonetheless content and not noticing the bright, almost golden glow of happiness he left in the rooms he passed through.

**OK so no cliffy but hey I needed to develop some relationships a bit more. Ooooohhh my longest chapter yet. Yippee. Please review! :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N – so another chapter here to throw at yous. Again forgive the stupid little mistakes I always seem to find after I post it and do point them out so I can fix them. A small request to my fellow readers. Please please review. I'm aiming for the 50 mark :D If you have any suggestions on something you would perhaps like to see in the fic, please I'm open to them and if there are enough of them I'll definitely consider them. So enjoy and please please review~silvermoonfae**

**Disclaimer – I do not own anything remotely related to the fantastic world of J.K Rowling!**

**Unknown Power**

A tangle of arms and legs shaking with giggles shot from the floo in a flash of green and haze of dust. On the floor, in an unrecognisable cluster of limbs, covered in soot, was Harry and Clíona. Seconds later, Snape stepped gracefully from the fireplace, arms folded, a mildly irritated look scrunching his face. But at the humorous position both kids had somehow managed to achieve, even the stern professor had to crack a smile, relieved that the children were getting on so well together so quickly.

Harry felt all tingly inside. It had been a long time since he had been so carefree and light hearted. Still intermittently laughing and coughing from the dust, he leaned against the mantlepiece of the roaring fire to catch his breath. He was still experiencing periods of weakness as he was still recovering from his last 'meeting' with his uncle. However, Clíona was opposite him, eyes shining with unconcealed mirth, gasping for breath herself, which immediately made him feel better. He hated his weakness and at least now it wasn't so obvious as the both of them were out of breath.

"Remind me never to travel in the floo with ya again. You're as fidgety. It's a wonder we ended up in the right grate, never mind the mess we ended up in!" Clíona laughed.

"Hey, I'm normally light and graceful, whilst travelling using such methods," Harry replied adopting a prim and proper manner. "It was all your fault!" he teased.

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Was not!"

"Children!" Snape chided from the kitchen table where he was investigating that their purchases had made it all back in one piece, as they had been sent ahead.

Harry and Clíona stifled their giggles at their stuffy guardian. Once Harry had been all laughed out and calmed down, he rested his head against the marble top of the mantlepiece. It had only been a short trip but it had been strained and tense. Harry was unaccustomed to the amount of people shopping the streets of Diagon Alley and he had been stiff and nervous and unconsciously transferred the tense mood to those around him. It had only been on their way back to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch that he had loosened up a bit. But then again the crowds had dissipated once they reached the pub. And in a way he was relieved to be back to the quiet solitude of Snape's quarters. He sighed wearily.

Suddenly a glint of light caught the gilding on a frame he hadn't noticed before. The occupants were of a young man, smiling happily, twirling his newly wed bride in his arms. Startled he recognised the young to be Snape. Merlin, but he looked different. Happy. So the woman in his arms must be Clíona's mum. Clíona definitely took after her mother. However, she could see some of her father there too. He had heard somewhat vaguely from Clíona what had happened between Snape and her mother, but this made it seem so real. Somehow, he couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. After all, wasn't he the one who was supposed to rid the world of this megalomaniac. And the longer he delayed, the more people who were killed because of him. Life just wasn't fair.

The next frame he identified Clíona's birth and he smiled at the happy family they made. But it was the last frame that had really made him choke with emotion and feel a loss of breath. Again, he saw Snape and his wife and Clíona, but it was the fiery red-headed women that enthralled him and the little baby in her arms, with a tuft of messy black hair sticking up a top his head. He stiffened slightly at the sight of him in his mother's arms. Flashes of green light and screams of mercy raced in and out of his head. It was hard to relate this lively, fierce woman of this photograph with the memory of her last living moments. He clenched his hands, enjoying distantly the feeling of palm as he embedded his nails into his pain and he tried to make sense of things.

A delicate hand on his shoulder offered solace, while the other wriggled its way into his hand, preventing him from embedding his nails into his palm. He felt warm breath tingling his ear as Clíona whispered comforting words to him. "Harry, don't get lost in your memories and thoughts." For once losing the heavy Irish accent as she whispered. "Take comfort from knowing that she loved you. You can see it as clear as daylight in this photo. And look at Snape there. He adores you. You can see it in his eyes. And now he wants to help you. Please let him in. You need his help!"

Harry's eyes widened at the indirect mention of his abuse and were glittering with suppressed tears. "How?" he asked quietly.

She knew what he was asking without need for clarification. She glanced over at her father who looked totally engrossed in sorting out their purchases. But she knew better, particularly the way his head was unobtrusively cocked in their direction or how his eyes flitted to them every few minutes. He was aware of what was happening and was leaving her to deal with it. Unlike others, she didn't swell with the importance of such a task, but accepted it gracefully for it was an important responsibility, comforting a hurt and lost child. She turned her attention back to the vulnerable, weary soul he had become. "Listen, I can't tell you how I know yet. But I wont lie to you and I promise you'll most likely find out everything this evening or tomorrow. I just have to make sure. I do know what happened to you in a sense and how you have suffered, but I promise you will find out. There will be no secrets. Please Harry!" She pleaded with him to understand and sighed in relief as he gave her a watery, timid smile. "I understand," he whispered reassuringly, "but as long as you never lie to me, and just tell me you can't tell me for some reason or other, I'll always understand."

She was almost bouncing in relief at this stage and tugged his hand to follow her. "Come on Harry, lets find out what my dear father had planned for this evening." Once again, laughing, he stumbled along as she continued to tug him enthusiastically.

Snape was well aware of all that had transpired. It was a skill he had picked up as a spy, having a soft focus on all his surroundings. He had to hide the small smile that crept upon his face at his enthusiastic daughter and his eyes shone with pride at her delicate handling of the situation. He was glad that he could rely upon his daughter to comfort Harry if he needed it and that Harry would accept solace from his daughter. It was a major step in his healing and it would help him to have someone else Harry could depend on besides himself if he was unavailable.

Now however, it was time to figure out just how powerful Harry was and then assess the standard of his daughter's magical education. However, knowing his late wife, she would be beyond her year level, if anything. With a last wave of his wand, their purchases sorted themselves into their respective rooms for later. He noticed his daughter and Harry finally making their way over and so he gestured at the other empty chairs around the table, indicating for them to be seated before he began.

"This evening, I hope to test your magical powers, Harry and your standard of magical education, Clíona. Both involve simple enough procedures and shouldn't take too long," he explained. "We'll begin with you Harry and so that you know what it will involve, I'll give you a brief run down. There will be two steps. The first of which will involve you holding this globe," he lifted a clear glass ball, that looked uncannily like one of Professor Trewlawney's crystal balls. Harry almost snorted at the thought of that fraud and her crystal balls. "Secondly, you will be taking this potion." This time he held up a vial of what looked like grey sludge. "You add one of your hairs to the potion to tune it to yourself. Then you will pour one drop, and only one drop mind, onto a piece of parchment, while you imbibe the rest. Is that clear.?"

Harry nodded his head in agreement. He really didn't see the need for all this rigmarole. Everyone knew he was of average power and nothing special. His grades attested to that. He had been told of what occurred that night he had been rescued but he hadn't believed it really.

At Harry's nod he turned to Clíona. "All yours will involve will be a standard test on spells and magical theory to determine where your standing is in your magical education. OK?" At her acceptance, he ushered them out ensuring them that he would call them later when he was ready. This was going to be a trying evening for himself.

And he didn't know how right he was.

HPHPHP

Later that evening they were all settled in the sitting room, Harry standing nervously as Clíona was settled on the chair comfortably and Snape was pacing relentlessly in front of him, globe in hand.

"Firstly, I need to explain in a bit more detail what you must do Harry, OK?" Harry nodded so he continued. "You must clasp the globe in both hands like so. Then you must travel to your magic's core." He paused as Harry looked at him questionably.

"You're core? Is that even possible?"

"Yes, anyone can do it. The reason why it's not taught to everyone however, is that it has become a lost art as it's a rare occasion that one needs to measure someone else's power. For the average wizard or witch there is just no need to. Anyone above so, there isa need to gain an accurate approximation of their powers. The stronger you are, the less the average potions and spells will work on you and some spells may not have any effect whatsoever. Can you tell me how this could become a problem?" he challenged.

Harry thought for a while. He knew the answer but he was reluctant to answer. This was too much like previous class situations and he didn't want to revert back those situations. But not answering could lead to worse consequences he thought, thinking of his uncle. Taking a deep breath he chanted in his mind repeatedly that it had all changed. Everything had changed!

"Um, well, in situations, erm, where healing was needed and their situation was life threatening and they were above average power. Then you would need to have quick access to potions and knowledge of spells which could be used." he concluded. He cringed almost expecting the usual point loss for Gryffindor or snarky reply.

However Snape smirked slightly, as if he knew what Harry had been thinking. "Indeed, if school term were in procession I would give points to Gryffindor." he said, going for the shock factor. Harry's mouth dropped open like it were on a hinge and Clíona stifled her laughter.

Amused, Snape continued. "Well Harry, if you've finished impersonating a fish, I'll continue. Now you can see why, if anybody shows a hint that their power is developing above average, then it must be determined. Now, travelling to your magics core, is not so much as finding your core or seeing it with your eyes. You must centre yourself in line with your magic. Be one with it. It is like an intense feeling, your magic sings within your very veins, " Harry opened his mouth as if to say something but Snape cut him off. "It pulses with every heartbeat and only then will the globe light.

"Now the colour the globe shines is also important as it determines your magical strength. There are seven different colours the ball can change. Seven is one of the most powerful numbers in the magical world, hence the seven colours to indicate the various power levels." he explained.

"Um sir, why is 7 one of the most powerful numbers?" Harry asked, genuinely curious.

Snape saw the sincerity in his eyes, answered appropriately. "Magic can always be broken down into seven components. We also consider there to be seven base elements upon which our world balances upon. Earth, Water, Fire and Air, the four usual ones, even considered by many muggles to be base elements. But also, Light/Dark, Space/Void and Sound. Elementals have not been seen in centuries. It is a most difficult art, to control the elements but it can be done by these. However, I'm sure you need not worry about these and study them if you wish in your extracurricular time. Now can you imagine our whole world based on the number 7? If you do arithmancy you'd learn more. As it is, at the moment it may be difficult to comprehend." Snape lectured.

Now back on track, the seven colours are, ranging from weakest to strongest, white, yellow, orange, red, blue, green, purple and with orange as the average everyday wizard. There are also secondary colours interspersed within the primary, such as dark streaks or blobs of black, indicating darkness surrounds you, or pink showing your loving nature." He looked disgusted at the very notion of pink streaks in someone's globe. "However we shall interpret this as we come to it."

Harry was overwhelmed by the amount of information he was receiving. He really just wanted to get this over and done with. He was positive he was of average power if not weaker. He just didn't have the smarts like Hermione had. He was relieved when Snape finally halted his spiel. His brain was overworked at this stage, so literally none of the last couple of minutes really processed in his mind and he was working from mostly automatic.

"I will first demonstrate and then it's your turn. Holding the globe, you must centre yourself. It may take a couple of tries, but don't worry. Just keep trying until you feel the magic singing in your veins."

"But sir, my magic always feels like that, It's why I love magic so much and loathe returning to my relatives each year as well as the other reason. It feels like it hums in resonance to my body, both working in perfect synchrony." clarified Harry passionately.

Now it was Snape's turn to imitate a fish. 'Impossible!' he thought, 'only the extremely powerful and disciplined could stay in a state where their body was in perfect harmony with their magic. Once achieved, it was widely accepted as the perfect state, where you where at peace with your magic and it preformed its best. But the boy hasn't exhibited anything to indicate such levels of power except the one incident. But then again he has defied Voldemort more times than any other and all before the age of 16. Still it wasn't likely. He was mistaken.' There really was only one way to fins out and silently he handed over the globe to Harry. At the slightest touch it should light up if what he said was true.

Harry looked at him questionable as he handed him the globe silently, but still he reached out to accept it. As soon as he touched it, a mere finger made contact with the shiny glass, it glowed intensely. Snape almost dropped it in shock and Harry jumped back. Clíona stared in awe at him and usually nothing seemed to phase her. Contact was broken and the glow was immediately sucked back in upon itself like a vortex.

Snape couldn't believe it. A finger! One finger and it lit the room with power. And the fact that his magic sung in his veins at all times. He had achieved what none other, save Merlin and the four founders had managed to achieve. A state of perfection whereby his magic would resonate harmoniously with his body. He shook his head slightly to try and rid him of his confusing thoughts. They needed to determine his power levels and so he handed the globe back to Harry, again wordlessly.

Harry knowing what to expect this time, even though he was still nervous, grasped it lightly in both hands. Instantly, they were bathed in a warm glow. If the first revelation was a shock, it was nothing on this. The globe glowed gold. Gold! With blobs of purple. Gold was a secondary colour, meaning purity and strength of heart. And the purple? Well he was now officially one of the most powerful wizards of the day. And the secondary colour overshadowing the primary, well that attested to his character and innocence. The prophecy was seeming more and more likely as time wore on. A globe such as this hadn't been seen since the time of Merlin himself and his globe broke in two and so his power couldn't couldn't even be measured. And speaking of the devil . . .A large resounding crack echoed through his quarters and the light dimmed considerably before vanishing entirely. Lord above, he was as powerful as Merlin!

Harry just stared at the two halves of the globe in his hands in surprise. "Um sir? Is this supposed to happen? What does it mean?" he asked tentatively, not liking the play of emotion on the usually stoic face of the potion's master. This just couldn't be good.

Snape breathed slowly and counted to ten before answering. "Well basically the only other wizard to affect a globe such as you have is Merlin, and his power couldn't be measured by any known means." Harry paled significantly. He was shaking and muttering quietly to himself. 'Uh oh,' Snape thought.

"No, no, no, am not! Just a freak! Nothing special! No, no, no!" he mumbled in denial, eyes glazed over with this revelation.

"Harry? Harry! Just calm down." Snape soothed. But Harry wasn't responding to him. He was too trapped within the web of his thoughts. He cast a panicked look at his daughter, who immediately jolted from her dazed stupor that she had fallen to. She calmed herself down and filled the room with a soothing balm. Harry immediately relaxed, his dark mutterings of self disgust trailing off before he slumped back into the settee, which was luckily right behind him, or he would have had a bad knock on the cold, hard dungeon floor. Snape shot her a grateful look before settling beside the shaken teen on the settee, ignoring the flinch and barely audible whimper which followed.

Very deliberately he took the child's face in his hands and tilted his head gently so he was staring down the depths of those sorrowful emerald orbs. "Harry, I will sat this however many times that I have to, to get you to believe what I say. You. Are. Not. A. Freak! You are not a burden, nor any other derogatory term your disgusting so called 'family' have deemed you. You are a powerful wizard in your own right, with perhaps foolish Gryffindor tendencies, but a pure heart and spirit as the globe attested to. Never ever think like that. Never ever think that you deserved what was done to you. It was wrong and no one deserved to be treated the way you were, least of all you. Do you understand?" Snape tried to impress upon the vulnerable child. He could still see the doubt lurking deep in his eyes and Snape was sure it would take many talks such as these to actually rid him of his self loathing, but the boy nodded in acquiescence. Snape realised that it was a starting point on which they could build upon.

"Very well. After this last round I find myself reluctant to continue. I think we'll leave the potion stage until tomorrow and until you are well rested, to find out what other surprises you may have in store for us. Why don't you retire to your room, while I test Clíona, which shouldn't take long. It is getting late and the shadows are creeping upon us. I'll see you tomorrow Harry and goodnight." He arched a delicate eyebrow, daring him to protest at the dismissal. But Harry wouldn't complain for between everything that occurred today, he felt both physically and emotionally drained.

Muttering a goodnight to Clíona who responded cheerfully and to the professor who nodded, he stumbled to his room, knowing he would be asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

HPHPHP

"Freak!" Slap!

"Burden!" Thwack!

"God for nothing Son of a bitch!" Thump!

"Please Uncle, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It was an accident I swear!" Harry pleaded in a small voice from the corner he had backed into, curled into a ball protecting all his major organs from further damage.

"LIAR! You live to make our lives a misery. Well, I will. Not. Have. It!" his Uncle roared, punctuating each word by a whip with the belt.

Harry just moaned and whimpered in pain as the belt rained down upon him. No amount of begging would save him from the whip brandishing whale that stood above him. His Aunt and cousin watched on as usual, no hint of sympathy in their eyes. Only disgust. And it was this particular day Harry realised, he had never had a home there. He was an intruder and not one solitary soul in that house would ever debase themselves with such a low action as helping him. No one would ever help him! So he took his punishment stoically until a particularly harsh snap caused the buckle to catch the side of his face and he screamed!

"No!" Harry shot up in the bed, a mixture of sweat and tears rolling down his face. He looked around wildly for the dangerous, looming presence of his uncle. But he didn't catch any sight of the whale in the faint moonlight from his enchanted windows. And he was too large and cumbersome to lurk in the shadows stealthily. He was safe here. Finally he notice a faint pain emanating from his wrist and upon closer inspection revealed a jagged, yet shallow cut. He shrugged his shoulders dismissively. He must of caught himself off something or other earlier. He didn't catch the blood which was stuck beneath his fingernails or the smear of blood on the opposite hand. No, he suspected nothing.

He was safe here, that was all that replayed within his mind. Safe! It had been an emotionally trying day so he wasn't surprised that his nightmares continued to haunt him, even here. They had become a familiar, if unwanted night time companion. Suppressing a yawn, he snuggled down into the comfiest bed he ever had the pleasure of sleeping on. He knew he would be restless for the remainder of the night, if he was lucky enough not to be plagued by another nightmare. But once again he thanked Merlin above for his wandless ability to cast silencing charms.

Eyes slipping closed and his consciousness descending into the inky depths of oblivion, he never saw the looming shadow hovering by the door, merging within the darkness, pinpricks of light shining in his eyes, the only indication that they were there. He didn't notice him silently glide over, tucking him him tightly or brushing his wayward hair from his face. He didn't see the sorrowful cast to his eyes or the small "Oh Child!" that was sadly whispered around the room before his protector left. He didn't know that he had a silent Dark Angel that protected him fiercely, even from the night and was determined to help him at all costs even if it was to save him from himself.

**A/N – OK so I'm sorry that this chapter might have overwhelmed you with the technical bits I had to put in for background information but it was necessary. After the next chapter I hope to fast forward it a small bit. I don't want this fic to be totally about him being abused and his recovery etc. etc. There will be elements of his hardships throughout the fic as a result of his abuse but I think after the next chapter we'll see a different Harry. And pretty please review. I can't say this enough :)**

**Just giving you's all a heads up. I will be changing the name of the story. The title was always a temporary as it was but I have found several names which I think flow better. Thanks :)  
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